


Happiness

by Danagirl623



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft Holmes, Alpha Sherlock Holmes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Brotherly Love, Happy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not your traditional Holmes relationship, Omega Greg Lestrade, Omega John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: The Holmes' brothers pursue happiness.For Myc, that is his husband and their children.For Sherlock.... It's.... Well.... Nothing.Thank you G and Meg for your help with this story <3This story has A/B/O dynamics running in the background. It's not the main focus, but it's a factor in the universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToastedRoach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastedRoach/gifts).



> Just a note about the A/B/O element of my story-
> 
> Alphas are males that are able to impregnate someone. There are no female alphas.
> 
> Omegas are males that are able to become pregnant. 
> 
> Betas are females that are able to become pregnant.
> 
> The general population is split 50/50 between sexes. 
> 
> Alphas are 50% of the population, while Omegas and Betas are about 25% of the population. 
> 
>  
> 
> Some countries have terrible laws regarding Omegas and Betas reducing them to mere breeding stock, and some countries are far more liberal. England is a liberal country. Your A/B/O status is ONLY for breeding purposes. It does not affect which jobs you can have or if you are approved for a credit card. Sexual orientation is not an issue in the more liberal countries. 
> 
> In America, there are more advanced birth control options that are slowly spreading East to the older countries. There’s the traditional oral hormone blockers, but there’s also the morning after pill, the monthly injections, the every 3 months injections, and a five year implant in the arm. Those are the short term options, which are only offered to Omegas and Betas. The permanent or long time options are all surgical based and include vasectomies and hysterectomies which are offered to everyone. 
> 
> Another idea from Canada that is spreading to Europe is the idea of a planned parenthood style free- clinic for Omegas and Betas. 
> 
> There are two ways that a couple announces their together. Wedding bands (which everyone has) and soul marks which appear on the left fourth digit where a wedding band is worn. This method is rare, but does happen. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Entire generations have never had one, then one day a child meets his mate and they both have wake up the next day with it.

Greg Holmes stumbled into the antique building and took a deep breath. He tried not to clutch at his stomach, as he made his way into the consulate’s office. He stood in line ignoring most of the people who either pulled away from him, or cast dirty looks at him.

 

"Mama! Why is that Omega in public without his husband?" Greg heard a little boy whisper to his mom.

 

Greg felt for his ring to fiddle with, but remembered that _those bastards_ had cut it off him and thrown the pieces into a fire. He ran his fingers over the scar that used to be his soul mark.

 

 _Stop._ He commanded himself, with a deep breath.

 

"Hes out in public because he's either unclaimed or a whore, darling. Shame! Shame! Don’t make eye contact. He’s probably a thief as well. Hmph!" The mom answered with hate in her voice.

 

Greg shut his eyes and focused on his husband’s face to remain calm.

 

_One._

 

_Two._

 

_Three._

 

_Four._

 

_Five._

 

He opened his eyes and focused on the counter in front of him. It had a desk and bullet proof glass that was all scuffed up.

 

Finally an Alpha called him to counter. “Can I help you?”

 

“Hi, My name is Gregory Holmes. I need to get home to England, but I’ve lost my passport.”

 

The Alpha looked him over with a steely look focusing on the slight bulge at his abdomen. “Your passport, right.” He rolled his eyes. “You just want your child to be born in Britain.”

 

“I do.” Greg agreed, zipping up his coat, and smoothing it out. “Listen, my name is Gregory Holmes-”

 

“So you’ve said. How can you verify it?”

 

Greg sighed, “Ask me anything. I can tell you my mother’s maiden name. I can tell you my-”

 

“An Omega slut like you having a mother.” The  Alpha laughed, then called to his friend, “Amir, Greg here says that he has a mother.”

 

“Filthy Omega scum though, his eyes are nice. I bet my wives would let you sleep at their feet.”

 

Greg sighed, then cleared his throat. “Please, call my husband, Mycroft Holmes.” Greg looked at the Alpha, but didn’t see any sort of recognition at the mention of his husband’s name. “Get a phone. You need to dial internationally.”

 

“Who do you think you are, making demands, Omega scum?”

 

Greg slammed his hand on the glass, and shouted, “Call your boss. Tell him you have Mycroft Holmes’ pregnant husband here. Tell him now.” Greg continued to stare down the Alpha until he saw him pick up a phone and press a few buttons.

 

A hushed conversation, and less than a 2 minute wait, and the British ambassador, himself, was walking over to Greg. “Mr. Holmes, it’s an esteemed honor to meet the man who finally snagged Mycroft.”

 

“Wish I could say the same, sir. These agents are right bastards.” Greg cast them a filthy glance, then turned back to the ambassador. “Regardless, I need to get home. I’ve been away for far too long.”

 

“I didn’t know MI-6 was in the country.”

 

“They’re not.” Greg said, with a sigh. He tousled his hair. “Can I borrow your phone? Myc hasn’t heard from me in nearly 3 months. I need-”

 

“No problem. We care so much for our Omegas in Bangladesh.”

 

“Yeah, I feel the love.” Greg said sarcastically. They reached the office, and Greg stepped in the room taking a deep calming breathe. He picked up the landline, and dialed Mycroft’s emergency number.

 

“Holmes here.” He heard his husband say for the first time in 3 months. Greg cleared his throat, trying to push the emotions he was feeling away, but failed.

 

“Myc, I’m pregnant.” Greg said, as the tears fell from his eyes. “It must-”

 

“Why didn’t you call me from-”

 

“My house burned dow-”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“British Consulate in Dhaka, Bangladesh.”  Greg said, wiping his face. “Hurry, please?”

 

“My Gregory.” Mycroft managed to eek out, feeling his own tears roll down his cheeks.

 

“Are you crying too?”

 

“Of course I am. I thought you were dead-”

 

“And it’s worse! I’m pregnant.”

 

“Only worse because of where you are. I’ll get a team to bring you home.”

 

“I love you, Mycroft Holmes.” Gregory said, before he placed the phone back on the base unit.

 

Mycroft Holmes paced on the tarmac as if that would bring his beloved Gregory home sooner. His brother stood with him, bundled up to the nose in his wool Belstaff and blue scarf. “Myc, stay still.” Sherlock said, dryly, watching his brother pace.

 

“I can’t, Sherl. I put him in danger. I put the pups in danger. I should have fought harder-”

 

“Graham’s never going to willingly leave his job,” Sherlock scoffed, handing Mycroft a cup of coffee.

 

Mycroft took it, and sipped it. “His name is Gregory.”

 

Sherlock shrugged and flipped his collar up. “Victor’s Mummy and Daddy stopped by the other day.”

 

“Eesh.” Mycroft said an undignified noise, trying to tamp his temper. “How did that go?”

 

Sherlock gave him a pointed look. “They’re his parents. You know how it went. Complained about the weather, told me I’m too skinny and tried to actually feed me-”

 

“The audacity!” Mycroft tried to sound affronted, but his eyes were too busy scanning the sky for his husband.

 

“They brought my ex up. They asked why I left him.” Sherlock said, not turning to look at his brother.

 

“Why do they always mention that bastard? Why do you let them? Why do you still see them?” Mycroft asked him, angrily. Sherlock glanced over at Mycroft and tried not to smirk because his “distract Mycroft by making him angry” plan was working. “Why didn’t you tell them he used to put cigarettes out on you and he drugged you-”

 

“Shut up,” Sherlock cut in, realizing he _still_ wasn’t ready to talk about Victor Trevor with anyone, let alone the man who held himself responsible. “You know why I don’t tell _them_. They’ll look at me differently.”

 

Mycroft glared at his brother, and through clenched teeth he said, “It is _not_ your fault that Victor bloody Trevor drugged and raped you. It is _not_ your fault that you had this terrible thing happen to you, and honestly, Sherl-”

 

A loud whooshing sound interrupted whatever else Mycroft was going to say, as his eyes followed the plane that was landing. “He’s home.” He said, grabbing his brother’s hand. “He’s home.”  

 

Sherlock squeezed his brother’s hand. “Well, go get your man. What are you waiting for?” Sherlock asked.

 

Mycroft’s eyes scanned the outside of the plane to see if he could see Greg. He threw his arms around Sherlock’s neck, kissed him on the forehead, and ran over to the steps that were lowering.

 

He could see Greg standing behind the flight attendant. He looked him over, then smiled in glee at his husband. “Gregory Holmes, what kind of hour do you call this?”

 

“I could say the same thing for you Mycroft Holmes,” Greg called back before he ran down the steps. He jumped off the bottom two steps and threw himself into Mycroft’s arms. “I’ve missed you so much, darling.”  

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and making a gagging sound.

 

“Oi!” Greg called, happily. “I’m about to kiss my husband, Sherlock Holmes, so you may want to turn away now!”

 

Sherlock smirked, and headed back to the car to let the husbands enjoy themselves. It felt like less than a minute and the two lovebirds joined him. He glanced over his brother-in-law and the words _pregnant_ and _safe_ came flying at him. Satisfied, he smirked at his brothers and turned to look out of the window. He felt Greg’s hip at his, and smiled into his palm. “I’m glad you’re safe, brother mine.”

 

“I’m glad to be home. I missed my Holmes boys.”

 

“Gregory, don’t be kind to him. It’ll just give his curls more waves.”

 

“Mycroft, you are crazy,” Greg laughed.

 

“I’ll call Dr. Zin in the morning and see if he’ll-”

 

“Mycroft.” Greg chuckled. “Let’s handle that tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to go home, shower in my own shower, and crawl into bed.”

 

“Gregory!” Mycroft said, primly.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said sarcastically,  “Oh no! Gasp! My big brother sleeps naked with his pregnant husband!”

 

Greg laughed, and placed a calming hand on his husband’s arm, “Don’t panic, love. He’s being sarcastic.”

 

“I know sarcasm!” Mycroft said, indignantly.  “I just didn’t-”

 

“Shut up, dear.”

 

“Yes, dear,” Mycroft sighed, and glanced out the window. “Sherl, you’re going home?”

 

“Yes, I am. I have a chemistry lab tomorrow.”

 

“You’re going?” Mycroft inquired, as his brother exited the car. He pushed the button to lower the window, and shouted, “you should!”

 

“You’re fighting a losing battle with that boy,” Greg said, resting his hands on his stretched abdomen.

 

“You’re pregnant.”

 

“Yes, I am.”  Greg confirmed. “I was in the local ER for a concussion, and they ran a pregnancy test.”

  
“A concussion?”

 

“It was a false alarm. I was dehydrated.”

 

“What were you doing that you were dehydrated?” Mycroft asked, pointedly.

 

“You have access to MI-6’s files. Figure it out,” Greg grinned. “But it’s apparently S.O.P. to run a pregnancy test on any and all Omegas and Betas who seek treatment.”

 

Mycroft stared at his husband’s face, lightly tracing over the scar of the soul mark on his left ring finger. “It’s so frustrating. No one gets soul marks anymore, and you get one, and they steal it from you.”

 

“No identible marks, my Alpha.” Greg said before he leaned in and gently kissed his husband. “I missed you so much, Myc.”

 

“Hey, I missed you also my Omega-”

 

Greg climbed on top of his husband’s lap and swallowed the rest of Mycroft’s words down with a kiss that was feral, all teeth and tongue.

 

“I want your knot.” Greg panted, breaking the kiss, leaning back so he could see his Alpha’s eyes. “Please, Myc, claim me again-”

 

“Again?” Mycroft asked, with a slight growl. A delicate sniff revealed nothing but the underlying fetus smell.  “Who fucked my husband?”

 

Greg stared at his husband with tears overflowing. “Please, Myc-” He asked, then threw himself into his husband’s arms, crying.

 

Mycroft wrapped his arms around his hurting Omega, his husband, the man he loved most in the world and pressed him tight to his chest. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, my Gregory. I’m so sorry.” Mycroft kissed his husband-his Omega- his soul in another’s body, and settled into his thoughts as Greg cried. “My darling Gregory, I’m so sorry.” Mycroft apologized again, whispering it in his ear.

 

“I know what I signed up for joining MI6, then I met you and everything in my world shifted. The danger became less fun. The physical aspect of it reminded me of taking your knot. The mental part started to bore me. It was nothing- _nothing_ \- compared to your mind.” Greg couldn’t stop the words, or tears, flowing out of him. “I wanted to prove to myself I could still handle it, but I fucked up so badly Myc-”

 

“Hey, hey.” Mycroft said, trying to break into his thoughts. “Can I hold you tonight? Tomorrow we’ll worry about fixing it.”

 

Greg nodded against Mycroft’s neck. “Together?”

 

“Always together, you and I.” Mycroft agreed, rubbing Greg’s back with one hand and wiping away tears with the other.

 

Greg slid himself off Mycroft’s lap with a thud, then looked at him with worry clearly written on his face, “What about Sherlock? Who’s going to take care of him?” Greg started crying again, and Mycroft pulled his husband’s head to his chest.

 

“Tomorrow, we’ll solve the world’s problems. Tonight it’s just you and me and them.” Mycroft said, softly cradling his husband’s belly.

 

“And our huge, comfortable bed where I shall never wear pants again.” Greg yawned, wiping his eyes.

 

That night as Greg laid curled into Mycroft’s arms, “Who will love Sherlock?” came floating to the front of his mind.

 

 _Sherlock will be loved by someone._ **_The Ex_ ** _statistically is not the only one who date him. Sherlock will find a mate, I know he will._

 

Mycroft eased his phone off the top of the table next to him. Greg shifted a bit, but didn’t complain. Quickly he shot off the following two texts:

 

_A-Find a match maker dumb enough to take on my brother- MH_

 

_SH- Go to your Chemistry lab tomorrow- MH_

 

Mycroft slid his phone back on the end table, and Greg grumbled irritability, “Problems tomorrow, us tonight.”

 

“I’m worried about Sherlock.” Mycroft admitted quietly, then added, “I want him to have this. What you and I have. I want him to have a spouse- a partner in crime. An Omega to care for. He’s really an affectionate child.”

 

“You can’t force him to find a spouse.”

 

“I can’t, but Grandmother could have, and would in a heartbeat,” Mycroft mused.

 

“Mycroft Holmes! You wouldn’t do that to your favorite human. Forcing him to get married to a stranger-”

 

“Oh, you stop it. You know that I could arrange it so it looked like an accidental thing, but it was really on purpose.”

 

“Myc,” Greg groaned. “Stop trying to run your brother’s life. He’s going to resent you if- No this is ‘Lock. _When_ he figures it out, he’ll resent you.”

 

“I just want him happy.”

 

“Since when could you dictate any bit of his life?”

 

Mycroft sighed, “You already know he doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do.”

 

“Right-”

 

“Why are you allowed to cry about his lack of a spouse, but I can’t plot for him to get married?”

 

“I’m pregnant, you daft arse.” Greg pulled his husband’s hand down to his stomach. “And you have not stopped trying to plot that boy’s life since your Mummy had him. So do us both a favor, and just stop trying to control him. Just let things happen.”

 

“Your laid back attitude pisses me off sometimes.” Mycroft admitted, rubbing his husband’s belly.

 

“Your up-tight, my-way-or-the-highway attitude _pleases_ me so much.”

 

“Gregory,” Mycroft sighed.

 

“No, you listen to me, Mycroft Holmes. I love you more than anything in this world, but I will not let you behave this way. Stop being such a controlling arsehole that doesn’t listen to anyone but his brain. _You_ will let this obsession with Sherlock’s future go-”

 

“I hardly think it’s an obsession-”

 

“I wasn’t done speaking, my _dearest_. You will let your obsession with his future go, and you will focus on your duty to me, Alpha. I am your responsibility and I need your support now more than ever. This is my third pregnancy…. As you know, we were here once before and it ended poorly. So-”

 

“Gregory-”

 

“No, Myc. _Shut up_ and listen, you fuck. _”_ Greg had reached the end of his patience. “Stop being such a meddling nosy fucker and be the caring man I know you are. Be the man who changed the country’s laws to join my life. Remember why I choose you. Remember what I asked you for. Just remember what I deserve. Do I need to remind you what I left behind? Do I need to show you pictures of the bruises and marks that so often littered my skin?”

 

“No, Gregory.” Myc rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I just _worry_ about him so much.”

 

“So do I, but you and I have to handle ourselves first. Someone will come into Sherlock’s life and just light it up.”

 

“That’s magical thinking.”

 

“Can you please just focus on us?” Greg asked, before he rolled away from Mycroft. He got off the bed, and shuffled off to the bathroom.

 

Mycroft grabbed his phone and read his messages from Sherlock.

 

_Dream on, brother mine. I already passed Chemistry. SH_

 

_Go to bed already before your Mother Hen starts fussing. SH_

 

_Too late, isn’t it? SH_

 

Mycroft eased his phone back onto the stand. “Sherlock says hello.”

 

Greg narrowed his eyes as he climbed back up into the bed. “He called me ‘Mother Hen.’ That fucking beastie. I shall murder him and roast his eyes.”

 

“Later darling, after the pups are born.”

 

Greg bristled instantly at the archaic term _pups_ . “Children, Myc. I’m having children. I am not a _bitch_ for you to breed.” Greg snarled. “I do not have pups. I do not have anything but _children._ Do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir.” Mycroft said, with an audible swallow.

 

“Well, now, I’m grumpy and need a snuggle.” Greg sighed, easing back into bed. Mycroft wrapped his arms around his husband, and held him tightly. Greg placed his hands on Mycroft’s arms, and scooted back into the older man’s arms. “You are a horrible husband sometimes.”

 

“Am I darling?” Mycroft sounding mildly interested.

 

“Oh, you fucking bastard. Are you in your mind palace? I’ll murder you too. Fry your nuts-”

 

“I’m not in my mind palace.” Mycroft laughed, pressing his lips to Greg’s neck. “I was thinking about how your arse always seems to find my cock when we’re snuggling.”

 

“Of course it does. You know what Avia told me on our Bonding Day?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“She said, “Watch out for my boy. He thinks with his cock, that one.” I was-”

 

Mycroft laughed, then said, “Grandmother would never say that!”

 

Greg grinned, feeling his husband settle into the snuggle. “I am so glad to be home, Myc.”

 

“Me too.” The Alpha murmured sleepily, “I missed you so much, Gregory. I drove ‘Lock nuts.”

 

“Goodnight, husband mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft finished buttoning his dress shirt as he hustled back into the bedroom at the sound of his husband struggling to get out of bed. “Darling Gregory, why do you try to get out of bed?” 

 

Mycroft grabbed the younger man’s forearms and helped eased him to a sitting position. 

 

“Mycroft Holmes, I am a young, able-bodied-”

 

“Dr. Zin said you should be on your back as often as possible.”

 

“That is what got me into this mess.” Greg grumbled, hugging his abdomen. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring over his engorged abdomen. He watched in fascination as he saw an extremity push its way across the tight space. “I don’t like that Dr. Zin. I know he’s been your family’s physician forever. I know he birthed your saint of a mother, you, and your brother, but he has to be wrong. Five pups. That’s extremely unlikely. Multiples do run in the family, but never more than three! In fact, I was the only single birth in the last 100 years.” 

 

“Yes, darling you’ve mentioned that.”  Mycroft turned back to the mirror to fix his tie. 

 

“Christ, I’m huge. My belly-”

 

“Is the perfect vessel to carry our prodigies.” Mycroft cut in, with a polite smile. He turned back to his husband just in time to realize he was in trouble. 

 

“Stop talking over me.” Greg growled, staring him down. “Before we even dated, you got Omega laws changed. When I bonded with you, you promised me that you would still treat me like a fucking human and not some subservient animal. Then when we found out I was pregnant, I begged you not to be an ass to me. You did great in the beginning, but now you’re falling back on bad habits. Remember, I am an Omega and a father now which means I have more rights than you do,” he finished his threat with a “don’t push your luck” sort of look.

 

“Yes, dear.” Mycroft said, coming to stand in front of him. “Thank you for reminding me.” 

 

“You’re just saying that-” Greg said with a grunt as he stood up. “Because heaven forbid I sully the name of “Holmes” any further. I mean, how could Mycroft Holmes marry a divorced Omega? I’m a dutiful husband, aren’t I? When you wanted to invite the Queen to our ceremony, what did I say?” 

 

“You allowed it.”

 

“How could I deny my future husband any small bit of happiness?” Greg asked, then continued. “When you wanted to get pregnant, what did I say?”

 

“Again, you graciously allowed it.” 

 

“Considering I enjoyed making the children too, ‘allowed it’ seems kind,” Greg said, as he nodded. Slowly they shuffled out of their makeshift bedroom and into the living room. Greg let the conversation die until he was seated comfortably with both feet propped up. “What did I say when you told me to quit my job?”

 

The alpha smirked at this memory as he gingerly dabbed at his sweat-covered forehead with a folded handkerchief. “It wasn’t language worth repeating.” 

 

“Say it,” Greg commanded with a sparkle in his eyes.

 

“Do I….” Mycroft sighed at the insistent look, “You said, ‘Who the fuck made you Hitler? You think I’m going to quit my job and be a stay at home husband, you’ve better see one of your fancy Government doctors because the chip in your head is malfunctioning.’ More or less.”

 

“Correct. Oh, husband mine. That mouth of yours!” Greg smiled kindly at his husband. “When’s your brother getting here?”

 

“Within the next 20 minutes.” Mycroft stated, as he checked the large clock hanging in the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?” Mycroft asked.

 

“Oh, go on, set the kettle, love, but I’d like a foot rub even more,” Greg said as he wiggled his toes. 

 

Mycroft shook his head as he walked away with a tiny little grin. “You must know that this, happiness we have is a-”

 

“Aberrant. Life ruining.” Greg supplied, closing his eyes for a minute.  “The best thing you ever did,” he added as an afterthought. “Spare me the lecture on how Holmes men don’t have feelings.” 

 

“Yes, darling.” Mycroft said, returning with a cup of tea.

 

“Microwaved?” The omega asked, wrinkling his nose, taking the smallest sip possible. 

 

“You never finish your tea,” Mycroft pointed out, as he settled in next to Greg.

 

“It smells funny,” Greg said, handing it back to his husband. 

 

“Dr. Zin is coming by today since you are homebound.”

 

“I am  **not** a damsel in distress. First you insist that Sherlock comes over for hours on end, and then you insist on house visits.”

 

“I agree you’re not a damsel, but you are in distress. Dr. Zin said you’re having five pups and having this much trouble. We need to be careful. I don’t want an  _ accident _ .” Mycroft shook his head, trying to forget Greg’s history of two failed pregnancies. 

 

Mycroft took a sip of his husband’s tea in an attempt to distract himself and realized it was overly sweet. He placed it down on the coffee table. 

 

_ He’s being sensitive to sweet things. He’s having boys! Five young men to raise. This shall be a breeze! _

 

“You don’t need to be anything.  _ I _ need to be careful. I’m the size of a house!” Greg exclaimed, laying his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft leaned his head against his husband’s and sighed in contentment.

 

“I do love you, husband mine. I can’t wait to be fathers with you.”  Mycroft said finally, as he spied his brother coming up the path to the house. “Do you want me to stay home and work? I have a teleconference with the American president that I could do from anywhere.”

 

“So you’d be in the library?” Greg asked, leaning away from him.

 

“It’s the study, darling, and yes.” 

 

Greg rolled his eyes, and smirked.  _ Such a pretentious prick. _

 

“Does Sherlock have to stay, then?”

 

“Of course he does.” Mycroft said, “He’s stronger than I am anyway.” 

 

Sherlock tried to hide the smile on his lips as he entered to room. “I’m superior to Mycroft in a lot of ways.”

 

“Good morning, Sherlock,” Greg greeted his brother in law. “What work have you brought for us?”

 

“Four cold cases and a new serial killer. Plus, newspapers!” 

 

“Which is for me?” Greg asked, with interest, holding his hands out for the files. Sherlock transferred three cold cases to him, and settled in at the other end of the couch. 

 

“Go away Fatcroft.” Sherlock said, dismissing him as he opened a case file. He started flipping through the file, and ignoring both Mycroft and Greg.    
  


 

Four hours passed in this quiet manner. Greg either napping or thumbing through the files or newspaper while Sherlock quickly devoured the files, then disappeared into his mind palace. 

 

The doorbell woke the two men from their stupor. Greg’s eyes forced themselves open while Sherlock stood up to answer the door bell. 

 

“Hello! I’m Dr. John Watson. I’m Dr. Zin’s replacement. I’m here to see Mr. Gregory Holmes.” 

 

Sherlock stared at the man, but didn’t reply to Dr. Watson. “Fatcroft! There’s a doctor here to see your pregnant husband.” 

 

“Oi! Sherlock! Don’t be a twat! Dr. Watson, please come in.” Greg called, not willing to even try to sit up. 

 

Dr. Watson slipped by the tall, lithe, muscular, brunet man into the living room, with a barely noticeable once over. He placed his travel kit on the floor and hurried over to shake the pregnant man’s outstretched hand.  “Dr. John H. Watson. Very nice to meet you.” 

 

Greg grinned at the handsome youth. “Forgive me for not standing up.” 

 

John grinned at him kindly. “I think it’s beyond acceptable. May I sit?” 

 

The older Omega nodded, and called, “Sherlock? Would you kindly get Myc?” Sherlock disappeared upstairs muttering under his breath. “Were you able to get a set of records from Dr. Zin?”

 

John nodded, “A very nice nurse, Ms. Morstan, helped me out. Tried to ask me out, too.” He chuckled.

 

“All the betas love a soldier.” Greg said, politely. Then he cleared his throat,  “Did you see the note in there?”

 

John pulled the file out, and flipped to it. It was neon pink written in black ink. “It was hard to miss. Now, your last doctor… he seems off. There’s no way you’re having five children-“ 

 

“Dr. Watson, I presume.” Mycroft said, icily as he entered the room. “Is it standard procedure to start an appointment without an Alpha present?”

 

John blinked at the new man, and slowly grinned, “I wasn’t aware we had stepped back in time. You better call someone at that fancy consulate office you claim to be associated with to send a repair man out to fix that time vortex.”  John turned back to his patient. “As I was saying, there is no way you’re carrying five children. I know this is your third pregnancy-”

 

“Dr. Watson! We do  **_not_ ** discuss that!” Mycroft interrupted the doctor.

 

John turned to his patient’s husband, and stared him down. “Mr. Holmes, you are here as a courtesy. As I thought I made it clear on the  _ three _ telephone calls this morning, I prefer to be alone with my patient for their appointment.”

 

Sherlock appeared while they were talking, and lurked just out of their line of sight on the stairs. He looked over John Watson and tried to deduce him. He smirked at the tone John was using with his brother. 

 

“You called Dr. Watson three times this morning?” Greg glared at his husband. “I thought you had a conference call with the American president.”

 

“Some sort of technology issue,” Mycroft admitted with a tiny throat clearing, catching the hard stare of the doctor. 

 

“Do you think you can remain civil for the next hour or so?” John inquired, with a just barely faux politeness. He didn’t blink as he stared the Alpha down. 

 

Mycroft cleared his throat again, and broke eye contact. Mycroft would not verbally acknowledge the Omega, especially since he was complying with his wishes.

 

John turned back to Greg, “So this being your third pregnancy- Which, I don’t know why you don’t talk about it. It’s normal. One in seven pregnancies are viable these days. Chances are good that those previous ones would have had to be terminated too.”

 

“Dear god, why do you bring this up? My husband is pregnant-” Mycroft exclaimed.

 

John placed the folder next to where he was sitting, and stood up. “I’m sorry Mr. Holmes, but you’re going to have to leave.” 

 

“Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed, trying to get his husband to let him stay.

 

“Obviously, Myc, you can’t behave yourself long enough for the doctor to do his job-”

 

“He’s an unattached Omega!” Mycroft growled. “Do you think I want him around you? He could-”

 

“Kill my patient and steal his children?” John asked, with a chuckle. “I thought those things only happened in savage places like-”

 

“Afghanistan,” Sherlock supplied, deciding himself. 

 

John glanced at the other Alpha in the room. He filled less space than the elder Alpha, but he had something else the other didn’t. A slight grin on his face. “Are you going to behave or shall I toss you out like I did your brother?”

 

“Sherl’s good,” Greg said. “While he’s _ the  _ least compliant person I have ever met, he is ten times better than my dear husband.” Greg shot Mycroft a look, who finally left the room.   
  


“Watch that Dr. Watson,” he growled at his brother as he went upstairs.

 

“Yes, please do keep an eye on me. I see quite an ugly vase that I may try to sneak out in my bag.” John said, with a smirk.

 

Greg laughed, heartily. “Please, continue, Dr. Watson.”

 

“Please call me John.” John smiled, then look down at the chart. “So this is your third pregnancy, and your last doctor said you’re about nine months along with five children.” John placed the folder to the side, and snatched a clunky handheld device out of his bag. “Judging from your amount of discomfort and how you have your legs placed-”

 

“He’s due tomorrow,” Sherlock interrupted the doctor. 

 

“Quite right.” John said, “Amazing, Sherlock!” He smiled at the man, and glanced down at the doppler in his hand, still smiling.    
  


Sherlock smiled brightly than quickly rearranged his face into a bored expression. Greg caught the smile. The first one he’d ever seen on the lad, he glanced at John’s left fourth finger. 

 

_ No soul mark. No ring. Well, well, well. _

 

John held up his device. “This is a handheld doppler. It’ll let me listen to the heart rates. I’m afraid mine’s a few years old so the image is not so clear, but it works.” John reached into his bag again, and pulled out jelly. “This will be cold,” he promised as he stood up and covered Greg’s belly. He placed it to the side, and turned the machine on. He placed it on the dead center of the bulge, and grinned when the “woosh, woosh” of the heartbeats filled the room. 

 

“Sherlock,” He called. “How many heartbeats can you hear?”

 

Sherlock gracefully walked away from the wall he was lounging against, and crowded in close to John. He stared at the tiny screen and listened to the din of heartbeats. 

 

Distracted, John glanced down at the places where the lithe Alpha was touching him. Every place where their bodies or limbs touched, John felt a warmth bleeding into him. 

 

Sherlock felt the cool coming from John and closed his eyes to focus on the heartbeats, but all he could think was  _ John’s cold, he needs a sweatshirt. _

 

Shaking his head, he focused. Slowly, he was able to pull the beats apart. “Three,” he breathed. “Three!” he repeated, more confidently. 

 

“Correct.” John snapped his eyes up, realizing he was staring at the man next to him. He moved his body and arms away from the Alpha’s heat. 

 

Greg had tears in his eyes as he heard that, pressing the “woosh woosh” deep into his memory banks for later. “You said that I’m due tomorrow?” He asked finally, as he wiped tears away.

 

John nodded, as he focused his eyes on the screen.

 

“Why did you come home if you loved the Army so much? You have no promised one waiting.” Sherlock asked, as John watched the images flicker by on the screen.

 

“Sherlock!” Greg scolded. “Be polite.”

 

“That  _ is _ polite,” Sherlock insisted.

 

“My time was up. I put 10 years in the Army, and they said, “Watson, you’re far too old. Go home.” So here I am,” John turned off the machine, satisfied with what he saw. He started to wipe Greg’s belly off. 

 

“You’re home less than a week, 6 days to be precise. You only took this job because you can’t stand the boredom of your small apartment. You’re not interested in settling down and pushing out  _ pups _ .” Sherlock looked like he was forcing the word “pup” out of his mouth. “You actually are thinking about joining MI6, which not a bad career opinion, but not good enough for you. You’ll still be bored. You need-”

 

“Sherlock Holmes!” Greg scolded again. “Hush. You can talk the good doctor’s ear off after he tells me what perfect health I’m in.”

 

“You are in perfect health. Do you have a birth plan?”

 

Greg shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d get to this point, honestly.” 

 

“That’s actually a very level-headed thought. So, there are several options-”

 

“C-Section,” Sherlock cut in. 

 

“That’s one of the ways, natural childbirth-”

 

“His hips are far too narrow. He’ll be in a wheelchair for months.”

 

“Where did you get your doctorate, Sherlock?” John asked in that same deadly voice he had used previously on Sherlock’s brother.  Sherlock just smirked, then sat on the couch next to Greg. 

 

“I graduated from four different universities. My knowledge base is a wide catch-all sort of-”

 

“So you don’t have a doctorate?”

 

“Technically no,” Sherlock said, fighting the urge to cross his arms.

 

“So, please, allow me to speak with my patient.” John turned back to Greg, and smiled kindly. “So the birth plan.”

 

“I want a c-section.” Greg said, suddenly. “Today if possible. I am so sick of feeling like a house. I haven’t been upstairs in 4 months.” 

 

“There are a lot of risks with c-sections. Bleeding, infertility-”

 

“I don’t want any more kids. I’m done. I want to be a dad. I want these kids out of me. I don’t want any more.”

 

“Greg, shouldn’t you discuss that with your husband?” John asked. “I fully support your right to choose to not have kids anymore, but-”

 

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t want anymore and Myc will support me fully.” 

 

John glanced at Sherlock, and gave the tiniest smile possible, then back at Greg. “I won’t be able to do it, I don’t have O.R. time, or a staff or supplies.”

 

“Mycroft!” Greg called loudly, and heard his husband scurry down the steps. He appeared at the bottom of the steps with a bit of a pant. “Hello, darling. So, I need your connections. I need you to get an O.R. and staff so Dr. Watson can deliver these babies today. Also, I’m going to have a hysterectomy. I can’t do this anymore.” Greg smiled up widely at his husband as he watched the older man work through his thoughts. 

 

“And that’s your final decision, my love?”

 

“Absolutely.” 

 

“Can we talk about it momentarily?” Mycroft asked, glancing to his brother and the doctor.

 

“Yes, of course love. ‘Lock, why don’t you and Dr. Watson head out to the porch for a few minutes? It’s so lovely this time of day.”

 

“I don’t want to go outside. It’s hot,” Sherlock announced, with a nervous glance at the doctor.

 

“Oh, go show him your hives!” Mycroft snapped. 

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Dr. Watson, would you like to see my beehives?”

 

“Oh! Are they honey bees?” John smiled kindly at Sherlock, and fell into step with him. “I used to pick the combs out when my Grandma was alive. Is it time too?”

 

“Yeah, come into the kitchen and we’ll pick some honey out.”  

 

Greg watched the two young men disappear into the kitchen. He waited to hear the back door slam before he spoke. “My darling husband, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

 

Mycroft looked like a fish out of water as he tried to form words. “This is permanent. That means no more children for us.” 

 

“Myc, look at what a struggle this has been getting here. I don’t want to risk losing time with my children by bringing more children into our world and losing them. I can’t do-” Greg looked up at Mycroft, and held his hands out. Mycroft aided Greg as he struggled to his feet. Greg took deep lungfuls of air. “I want to focus on these children. On our children. The three coming out today.” 

 

Mycroft nodded, and glanced out the window. He watched his shy brother grinning at the handsome, young doctor. “I don’t like Dr. Watson. Will you please reconsider doctors?”

 

“Absolutely not. Dr. Watson is a young, capable doctor who knows much more than Dr. Zin.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be Dr. Zin.” Mycroft stated, knowing that he had already lost. 

 

Greg struggled to turn to the window and watched the young men get honey out of the hives. Dr. Watson was gentle and cautious as he worked a comb free. Sherlock scooped a jar underneath the comb and watched as it was lowered into the bottom. He screwed the lid on, and placed the jar on the ground. He reached in and plucked a small piece out. He broke it in half and handed part of it to the doctor who had discarded his gloves to taste the comb. 

 

“I want Dr. Watson.” Greg finally confirmed. 

 

“As you wish, Gregory.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am struggling so hard with Chapter 3. It's coming, I swear it. It's still with my Beta (because I hate it. Hate hate hate it) 
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to keep the chapters at 3K, but it's at 4.5K and my Beta's only half way done.
> 
>  
> 
> Please, please, please be patient. It'll be worth it for our Holmes' :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s have some babies! 
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient! This chapter took a village! Holdt, Gareth, Meg :) thank you guys so fucking much. I love you all. Enjoy! Comment and Kudos and alllllll that jazz!!

Sherlock glanced over at his brother as they rode in a sleek town car to the private hospital, and made a childish face. Sherlock was feeling a bit stroppy about being left behind with his pregnant brother when there were things he could help Dr. Watson achieve.

 

“Hey, thanks for staying with me, ‘Lock. I know you wanted to go play with… The grown ups.”

 

Sherlock arranged his face into a neutral look, then nodded. “It’s my pleasure to help you.”

 

“No, it isn’t. Anyone with eyes could see you were devastated that your brother got to ride with Dr. Watson. Can you imagine that ride over? Myc all stiff and proper and the young handsome-”

 

“Lestrade!” Sherlock cried out in surprise. “You’re married and he’s your junior.”

 

“I’ve got eyes, brother mine. I can see how handsome he is.” Greg smiled. “You better marry him before someone else does--”

 

Sherlock sputtered a response. “Graham! Stop!”

 

“So, you do want to marry him?”

 

Sherlock bit his lip, and turned away from Greg. “I’m married to my studies, Graham. You _must_ know that.”

 

“Well, then you can study his cock--”

 

“Graham! Shut up!” Sherlock blushed scarlet, then pointedly turned away from his brother.

 

Greg gently placed his hand on Sherlock’s arm. “Hey, it’s ok if you want to suck his dick. There’s nothing wrong with your biological urges--”

 

“ _I know_ ,” Sherlock said, insistent. Peevishly, he crossed his legs.

 

“Sherlock,” Greg said, gentle, waiting for Sherlock to lazily turn towards him. Finally Sherlock made eye contact with Greg. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you, despite what your ex tried to tell you. I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.” Greg held Sherlock’s gaze, until Sherlock nodded and turned away again. His hand moved down to Sherlock’s and gave an it affectionate squeeze. “Aren’t I a better choice to actually talk about it than Myc? The man who has-”

 

“The emotional range of a teaspoon.” Sherlock grinned, remembering the line from a movie they had watched together.  Sherlock glanced at Greg carefully, just in time to catch Greg grinning widely at him.

 

“Are you ready to be an uncle?”

 

“Of course I am. I have been building their financial future since the day since you two got married.”

 

“What does that mean?” Greg laughed.

 

“The day you and Myc got married, I opened a trust fund account for them. I don’t know what all it’s doing, but there’s thousands of pounds in there and they’ll be able to buy a nice home or build a university. I did put a clause in there that they have to admit Uncle Sherlock is better than Dad, but.” Sherlock shrugged. “I’m the young brother. I get to be petty.”

 

Greg looked at Sherlock with tears in his eyes. “You fucking bastard! You do care.”

 

“Caring is not an advantage, Greg,” Sherlock said, cooly. “Oh, wipe your eyes. Your husband will murder me if I help you out of the car and you’re crying.”

 

“Kiss my ass, ‘Lock. You’re a giant softie wrapped up--”

 

“Oh, thank _fuck_. We’re here,”  Sherlock said, glancing out the window.

 

Sherlock bounded out of the car as soon as it stopped. He ran over to Greg’s side to help him stand. Greg took a moment to gather himself before he allowed Sherlock to pull him upward. He pulled his hands out of Sherlock’s and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. “I’m so glad you’ve been here so much. I’m going to miss you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The babies will be born. You’re going to disappear back into the ether.”

 

“Might not,” Sherlock said noncommittally.

 

“You will.” Greg grinned, then pulled away. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

Slowly they made their way into the lobby of the private surgical facility. They were greeted by a pretty young aide in pale blue scrubs pushing a wheelchair. She chatted animatedly with them, and walked them to a patient room, leaving them there.

 

Sherlock helped Greg stand to transfer from chair to bed. He looked at Greg, and smiled. “Are you ready to pop those brats out?”

 

“Oh, hell yeah. Let’s have some babies.”  Greg huffed, his eyes bright, then glanced up at the door.

 

John entered dressed in dark scrubs, wringing his hands together. “Hello, Greg!” He grinned widely. “So we’re just waiting on the rest of the team. Your husband is currently mortgaging your house as we speak to pay for this. So I hope you enjoy being homeless.”

 

Greg laughed softly as he lay on the hospital bed. “What a great adventure! Homeless with triplets.”

 

“Why would you be homeless? Mycroft’s got more money than many third world countries.” Sherlock wrinkled his eyebrows.

 

“Sherl, John’s being humorous,” Greg supplied kindly.

 

Sherlock glanced over at John and rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find Myc,” he announced then departed the room.

 

John’s eyes followed Sherlock, then turned back to Greg. His cheeks were tinged red. “Sherlock’s a nice guy. A little backwards, but I think he’d make for a very interesting par--” John cut himself off, then said, “Friend.”

 

“How was my husband’s behavior on the ride over?”

 

John laughed. “Icy.”

 

“I’m sorry, John. He really is a good man, but he gets so wrapped up in his family’s old school manners and who he thinks he should be.”

 

“I think you see the best of him, and are trying to get everyone else to see him that way too.”  John’s voice was kind. “Regardless, he loves you and wants the best for you. He doesn’t trust me, but he respects me.”

 

“How did you manage that?”

 

John chuckled, then glanced over his shoulder as the door squeaked open. “Moran!” John looked delighted, widely enveloping his friend in his arms. “Holy, fuck, man. Where have you been?”

 

“Watson!” the short Irish man cried happily. He embraced his friend, and pulled back. “So you’re the idiot American doctor I’m working with.”

 

John laughed, “American? Oh, that arsehole! He hates my American procedures and my British attitude of “get out of my way”.”

 

“Well, what you’re proposing is pure American. You know Tex would be proud.”

 

“Fuck Tex!” John laughed, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.  “Anyway, I’m so glad it’s you. I need a man like you by my side for this one.”

 

“Oh please, Captain Watson. You don’t need anyone by your side to do this. You know how to do this in your sleep, all the procedures we did together--”

 

John elbowed him, then turned back to Greg. “Please excuse us. So Greg, this is my surgical nurse, Patrick Moran. He and I used to work together back in Germany and then again in Afghanistan.”

 

“He’s the first Omega that didn’t take my bullshit and really respected me in the O.R.”

 

“A field nurse with years of experience can make or break any surgery just as well as I can. You proved yourself, so you earned my respect.”

 

“Greg Holmes, nice to meet you.” Greg struggled to hold out his hand to shake the nurse’s. Moran walked over to Greg, and stood off to the side. He had a firm, confident handshake.

 

“Congratulations on your impending babies.” Moran said, then glanced towards John. “Just like old times eh?”

 

John nodded, beaming, as the door to the room was flung open. Mycroft entered dragging Sherlock by his ear. “I told you, this is a high security facility. Any and all attempts to break in are ended before they can truly begin.” Tossing his gangly brother into a nearby chair, Mycroft walked over to his husband. “Hello, husband mine.”

 

“Sherlock, you causing trouble?” Greg looked at his brunette brother, amused.

 

“Trouble is relative.” Sherlock said, resting his chin on his hand.

 

“Yes, my relative is trouble.” Mycroft said, primly.

 

“Mr. Holmes,” Moran said, with a grin. “I’m going to take Dr. Watson and show him our operating theatre. Dr. Watson, if you would follow me.”

 

“Why don’t you take Sherlock with you lads? I’ve got to discuss some things with Myc.”  Greg asked.

 

“Sherlock, would you like to come with us?” John asked, politely.

 

Sherlock glanced at his brother, and nodded. He smoothly stood up and fell in step behind the doctor and the nurse. “Thank you for saving me from my brother. He’s a right git when he wants to be.”

 

“Were you really trying to break in somewhere?”

 

“Of course I was. It’s a great mental exercise.” Sherlock said, with a shrug. “The security here is a bit of a joke.”

 

“Oh, I agree. My husband is trying to get a security deal, but the Board is being complete dicks.”

 

“Your husband?” John inquired, as they entered the operating room. It was set up the way John had taught him years ago. John looked over everything, but touched nothing.

 

“This is perfect.” John pronounced.

 

“Thanks, Watson. We have Dr. Rami joining us for the surgery. He’s a third year resident. He’s fantastic.”

 

John nodded his approval.

 

“Is there anywhere to get tea?” Sherlock asked, before the two service men could continue their conversation. “John’s hungry, but won’t admit it.”  

 

John turned towards Sherlock, cocked his head and grinned. “What else am I thinking, big boy?”

 

Sherlock studied him, then said in a flat voice, “You wish I’d stayed behind with my brothers.”

 

“Absolutely not, ‘Lock. I was thinking of how fucking amazing you are.” With a smile, John looked at him, then turned to his friend. “Lead us to tea.”

 

Moran turned to the tall Alpha, and stuck his hand out. “Any friend of Watson’s is a friend of mine. Patrick Moran, nice to meet you.”

 

“Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock glanced over Moran, but ignored his outstretched hand.

 

“My husband doesn’t shake hands either. He’s a germaphobe.”

 

“Congratulations on your third pregnancy.” Sherlock said, finally pulling his eyes away from Moran.

 

“How did you know? Tony just told me this morning.”

 

Sherlock regarded him with veiled amusement. “I believe John has asked for tea.”

 

Moran shook his head, and led the way out of the room. John bumped into Sherlock’s hip gently, and grinned up at him. “That was incredible. How do you do it?”

 

“The Science of Deduction, John. It’s my website. You should look it up.” Sherlock smirked, as he followed Moran down the hall.

 

“You know, I would if I could get internet access at my place. It’s a right shitehole.”

 

“You should move.”

 

“I can’t afford rent elsewhere,” John said, as the three men made their way down the steps to the lunch room.

 

“I’m going to go look at a place on Saturday, you should join me. The landlady owes me a favor, so I know I’ll get a good rate.”

 

John touched Sherlock’s arm causing him to stop walking. “Are you serious? We just met.”

 

“‘Course I am. You think I’m “amazing” and “incredible.” It’s much better than the typical “freak”comments I--”

 

“Are you two ladies done gabbing? Let’s get tea!” Moran called down the hall to them disappearing into the cafeteria.

 

John stared at Sherlock a moment more before giving a slightly mystified shrug. His eyes glinted with sudden mischief.

 

“Race you!” he shouted, as he took off. Sherlock ran after him and only managed to overtake him when John stumbled. Sherlock grabbed his hand and tugged him along.

 

“Come on, John!”

 

The men appeared next to Moran a bit breathless, laughing. “What took you guys so long?” he asked. “Are your nails finally dry?”

 

“Hey, cut the sexist remarks out.” John said, slipping by to grab himself food. Sherlock followed John with a snicker.

 

Sherlock grabbed a package of ginger snaps, and a hot tea for himself. John took a full meal, two snacks, water, and a hot tea from the commissary. They walked to the cashier, and John paid for them both before Sherlock could protest. There was a table near the exit, and they sat down together.

 

John eagerly dug into gobbling down his meal, while Sherlock opened his tea and dipped his biscuits leisurely into it. He stared at John’s military-efficient eating before he spoke.

 

“Do you snore, John?”

 

John laughed. “I can’t say for sure, Sherlock. I’m usually sleeping at the time. Do you?”

 

“No, I rarely sleep. I do play my violin for hours at a time, and some days I don’t talk at all.”

 

“I work weird hours, or I don’t work for weeks on on end,” John admitted, with a shrug.

 

“I have experiments everywhere.”

 

“What kind of experiments?” John continued to eat, ploughing his way through a small mountain of cafeteria food. He waved Moran over to them.

 

“I want to be a crime scene investigator,” Sherlock continued. “So all sort of things. How long it takes flesh to rot in the sun-”

 

“You’re dead cheerful at a party, aren’t you, mate?” Moran said, as he slid into a seat.

 

“Parties?” Sherlock frowned. “No, parties aren’t my area.”

 

“I reckon,” Moran shot back, with a smirk. “Watson--”

 

“Oi!” John said, with a mouthful of food. “Sherlock was talking, Moran. Don’t be a little bitch. Wait your turn.”

 

“Jesus, Watson. You haven’t changed, have you?”

 

“Tell me a Watson glory day story.” Sherlock asked, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

 

“What do you want to hear about them for?” John laughed.

 

“Because potential flatmates should know the worst of each other.” Sherlock admitted, with a laugh.

 

“Oh, Watson’s so fucking far from perfect. Fantastic OB, but he’s so bossy. He doesn’t let anything go. If you forget to count the sutures once--”

 

 _“I was at 475 sutures._ I _asked_ you to help me remember.”

 

“What surgery would an OB perform that needed _that_ many stitches?”

 

“The Beta ripped from asshole to navel after giving birth.” James laughed. “Well, a medicine man tried to perform a c-section. Watson here rushed in and saved the day.”

 

“A medicine man?” Sherlock asked, eyeing John as he ate.

 

“A shaman. He was a very knowledgeable man, but he cut too far and too deep.”

 

“The woman lived.” Moran shrugged with a grin. “She used to bring Watson baked goods.”

 

“She had just delivered again when I left the base last time. She ended up married to one of the guys.”

 

Moran nodded, and shoveled some food into his mouth. “How did that go over?”

 

Sherlock waved his hand. “That’s unimportant. I asked for a Watson story.”

 

“One time, ‘Lock,” John mused. “I was cross-eyed pissed and I tried to hide from my C.O. for roll call.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I was on duty. I wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but I’d just filled out my first death certificate and the older medical staff tried to ease my pain. So I hid and when he found me, I vomited in his face.”

 

Sherlock giggled, then glanced over at John to see him smirking. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“I was an idiot.”

 

“I didn’t know that story.” Moran laughed out loud as he pushed his plate away from him. “But, I have to tell you, it doesn’t surprise me. Watson always did have a thing for a man in power. First, the real Doctor on the base, then your second C.O., and of course the commander of the base. That was just Afghanistan, so I can’t imagine what a ho you were in Germany with Americans about. Everyone knows Americans are extremely easy.”

 

“No wonder the Americans and I get along so well. We’re both easy.”

 

“In fact, Watson, weren’t you engaged to Sholto? What happened with that?”

 

John’s smiled slid from genuine to polite. “Major Sholto and I were never engaged. In fact, he was married the entire time we were together. Thank fuck, I was never stupid enough to get pregnant, but you’d have known that if you had kept in touch.”

 

The grin fell from Moran’s face. “I’m an asshole. I claim it. I own it.” He looked properly contrite about the slip-up. “I’m sorry, Watson. I had no idea.”

 

“ _Major_ James Sholto?” Sherlock asked, stuffing his ginger snap wrapper into his empty tea cup. “He’s a serial cheater. I met him when I was 12, twice. I asked him why he had a Beta with him when last time I met him he had an Omega.” Sherlock grinned widely, with a glance at John. “He screamed at me in front of the entire party. I’ve never seen my Avia throw anyone out of our house quicker.”

 

John smiled at Sherlock gratefully, then down at his plate, but didn’t respond.

 

“So as for my brother--”

 

“Ah, yes, we should return to him.” John smiled kindly at Sherlock. “Sorry to interrupt you, love, but I’ve eaten something now. I say it’s time to deliver some babies.”

 

Sherlock grinned, flushed bright pink at the endearment. “If you want to go ahead, I’ll meet you there.”

 

“I’ll wait for you, ‘Lock. Moran, if you want, you can go ahead. He’ll need an I.V. started. I’ll be doing my own anesthesia.”

 

Moran nodded. “I’ll see you there, then. Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes.” With a nod, he picked up his tray and headed up to the O.R.

 

John smiled at Sherlock, and touched his hand. “Thank you for trying to save me. It’s much appreciated.”

 

“Did you really date Sholto?” Sherlock’s tone was curious.

 

“He was really good in bed,” John sighed, then touched Sherlock’s arm again. “The base was a lonely place. Part of me thinks I knew there was no future, but when you could die at any moment, the future means nothing.”  

 

Sherlock stared at the cool hand resting on his arm. He could feel the chill through the two layers of shirts. “Why are you so cold?”

 

John gave a snort, and removed his hand. “It’s a side effect from the implant.”

 

“Implant?” Sherlock asked, as he followed John to the bins.

 

John dumped the trash into the bin, and flashed a grin at Sherlock. “ _Implant._ It means I can be ‘easy’ with little to no consequences.”

 

Sherlock blushed red, and stared down at John. “I. I don’t think you’re easy, John.”

 

“I guess you’ll just have to count the nights that I have a sock tied to the door,” John said, before he walked away from Sherlock. “You coming ‘Lock?”

 

Sherlock nodded, and rushed to catch up. In silence, they walked together to Greg’s room.

 

Sherlock’s mind was racing with thoughts of John. John’s mind was full of thoughts of Sherlock. Neither had the audacity to suggest so to the other.

 

A palpable switch happened in John before they walked into Greg’s room. He went from friendly John Watson to indomitable Dr. John Watson. Sherlock filed that moment away, and a fast glimpse of John’s arse, into his mind palace for later use.

 

Sherlock entered the room, and settled into the chair next to Greg. Reflexively, Greg reached out and took his hand. He used his other hand to pat it reassuringly. “Glad you’re here, ‘Lock.” he murmured, and nodded at Dr. Watson’s murmured words. “I’m ready whenever you are, doc.” Greg smiled was strained. He looked to John, who nodded.

 

“Any further questions, Greg?”  Greg shook his head in. “And did you sign the consent forms already?”

 

“Yes.” Greg nodded, and glanced up as Mycroft entered the room, pushing a wheelchair. “Myc, you alright? Ready to be a dad?”

 

“I’m ready whenever Dr. Watson is.” Mycroft smiled, like a wolf trying to reassure a sheep he wasn’t hungry.

 

“Sherlock? Can you help me get Greg into the wheelchair?”

 

Sherlock stood up, and helped Greg to his feet. “Good luck, brother mine.”

 

Greg grinned at Sherlock, and glanced over his shoulder at Mycroft. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got a skilled surgeon.”

 

Slowly Sherlock eased him down into the waiting wheelchair. “See you soon... Brother mine.”

 

“You’ll be an uncle soon, ‘Lock.” For the first time, Greg sounded weary.

 

“I can’t wait.” Sherlock stood behind Greg, and began to push his chair out of the room.

 

Mycroft crouched down in front of his husband. “I love you so much, Gregory. Shall I join you?”

 

“Mmm? Oh, no, my darling. I’ll see you soon enough.” Greg leaned forward and kissed his husband. “Love you, darling.”

 

“I love you too,” Myc repeated, hand tight on the armrest of the wheelchair. “My darling.”

 

John glanced at Sherlock and nodded. “Thanks for your assistance, Sherlock.” He waited for Mycroft to gather himself and let go of the wheelchair, then led the way to the operating room, opening the door for the two men.

 

Moran was waiting with another man.

 

_Ah, Dr. Rami._

 

The two medical men stood with gloves on, and a pair prepped for John. John helped Greg out of the wheelchair, onto the bed, and washed his hands quickly in the small sink hidden in the corner. John slipped his gloves on and reached for the vial that Moran was holding out for him. The other doctor and the nurse were just visible to John if he’d look up from the medication he was drawing up.

 

“Sherlock, if you could take that chair with you. Thank you so much for your help today.”

 

Sherlock smiled awkwardly. “Of course, Doctor.”

 

He walked out of the room, and carefully shut the door behind himself. He peeked through the window, as Dr. John Watson worked on his brother. He saw the smile on Greg’s face and the deft movements of John’s hands. Sherlock only managed to duck out of the window before John came out of the room.

 

“Oh, Sherlock! You’re still here.”

 

“I was just watching Greg.” Sherlock’s words were rapid-fire.

 

“You’re nervous for your brother in law.” John comforted him, voice soothing. “Completely normal. He’ll do great.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Watson, for doing this for my family. I’m sure Myc won’t ever thank you.”

 

“It’s not about thanks, Sherlock, but I appreciate hearing it.” John smiled professionally at him, then disappeared into the sterile washroom. He glanced up at the door to see Sherlock walk away, and pushed an errant thought about _the brunet’s plush arse_. He entered the operating room, and stopped thinking about Sherlock as he saw his patient’s worried face.

 

“Alright, Greg, let’s do this. We’re going to deliver those babies. I’m going to hang up a privacy shield, and we’ll bring the babies around for you to cuddle for a moment.”

 

“Thanks, Dr. Watson.” Greg breathed evenly, pupils showing the medication was well saturated.

 

John set to work, increasing the medication as necessary, before he carefully cut down Greg’s abdomen. Slowly and carefully, he freed each child. Dr. Rami spent time cleaning and caring for them as they came out and laid them in their cot.

 

After the babies were free, John glanced at the resident to his left and smiled. “Dr. Rami, would you please start work on the hysterectomy while I talk to our patient?”

 

Dr. Rami nodded, and set to work as John removed his sterile gear placing it in red bin. He washed his hands again, and dried them before he came back to the babies. He stood between Greg’s prone figure and the cot.

 

“Congratulations, Mr. Holmes. You have three healthy, perfect daughters.”  John scooped up one of the babies, and placed her in Greg’s arms. Greg was crying, staring at his daughter.

 

“She’s mine?” Greg asked, looking up tearfully.

 

“She’s yours.” John confirmed with a nod. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, snapped a quick picture and put it away again.

 

John loved this part. The part where he placed healthy infants in the parent’s arms. That first moment all the pain washed away and was replaced by pure relief, pure love. This was the moment he loved best about being a doctor.

 

For just a moment, John looked at Greg with his first daughter, and saw his own stillborn daughter. He saw her wispy blonde hair, the too-thin eyelids that never opened, and her sweet little fists.

 

John sniffled, and wiped the tear out of his eye before he scooped up baby number two. He placed her in Greg’s other arm, and took the first baby back. John smiled at her and cooed, then placed her gently in her cot.

 

He pulled his phone out again, and snapped a picture of baby number two. Again, he tucked his phone away. He scooped up the third baby, and looked at her lovingly.

 

“Greg, I must say these girls are beautiful. You did a good job,” John said, as he switched the second baby for the third baby. John cradled the second baby for just a minute before he placed her in with her sister.

 

“Thanks, doc. They are so beautiful aren’t they?” Greg agreed, greedily glancing over his babies. John nodded, which Greg ignored. John snapped a quick picture of Greg with his third daughter.

 

“Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll have the nurse escort them to your room.”

 

“No!” Greg looked up at him, in horror. “You. I want you to deliver the girls to Papa Myc.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes, please.” Greg nodded. “You brought them in safely, you’ll make sure they get to Papa Myc and Uncle ‘Lock safely.”

 

“Dr. Rami, can you hang out a bit longer?”

 

“No problem, Watson. Mr. Holmes, Moran and I are going to stay with you. Is that ok?”

 

“Yes, Dr. Rami. Fine with me.” Greg said, as he handed John his third daughter. John placed her gently in with her sisters, before he patted Greg’s arm in comfort.  “Dr. Watson, can you tell Papa Myc one thing for me?”

 

“Of course.” John said, blandly. Internally he thought, _I am not telling that bastard you love him._

 

“Tell him that the March sisters are happy to meet him.” Greg smiled. “He’ll understand it.”

 

John nodded, before he pushed the cot out of the room. “Say goodbye to daddy!” he said to the girls, as he carefully guided them down the hall. John stared at these three miracles that he’d helped bring into the world, and felt overwhelmed again. He allowed himself a moment to mourn for his daughter, _his Kate_ , before he wiped his eyes and continued his way to Greg’s room.

 

“Hullo, Papa Myc and Uncle ‘Lock! Your girls have arrived.” John said, as he stepped into the room. He forced his voice to sound cheerful. Myc dashed to John’s side to stare at his children.

 

“Healthy?” Myc asked, glancing over John. He could tell _something_ was wrong, but hopefully nothing to do with him.

 

“All three of them, Mycroft. You’re a lucky man.” John said, with a small tight smile. “Also, Greg said ‘Tell him that the March sisters are happy to meet him’. So, don’t be afraid. Pick them up. Hold them. The nurse will be in shortly.”

 

“John,” Sherlock said, touching his arm gently. “Thank you so much for bringing my nieces safely into this world. It means more to us than I can say.”

 

“That’s my job, Sherlock.” John smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He ducked his head, and tried to go, but Sherlock stepped in front of him.

 

“I’m so sorry about your daughter.” Sherlock said in a low, urgent voice.

 

“It is what it is.” John looked at him, and reached his hands into his pockets. He fumbled with his phone, before he handed it to Sherlock. “There’s pictures on here of your nieces. Send them to yourself, and I’ll pick my phone up on Saturday.”

 

Sherlock looked at the phone in his hand in amazement. “How will you get there on Saturday?”

  

“Figure out my address and pick me up at 10 a.m.,” John said, before he ducked around Sherlock and went back to his surgery.

 

Sherlock quickly unlocked  John’s phone and texted himself the photos. He hurried to catch up with John. He opened the door to the washroom. “I never met a soldier who took such an unnecessary risk before. What kind of madman leaves his phone with an absolute stranger?” he teased, jovially. He held up John’s phone before he tucked it into his pocket. “If you don’t have your phone, how can you respond to the text message I sent you?”

 

“You texted me?” John asked hopefully, the previous sadness gone.

 

Sherlock smirked, before he headed out the door. “See you Saturday at 10 a.m., John.”

 

John finished washing his hands, and entered the O.R. again, fighting the blush on his cheeks.

 

“Sorry about earlier, mate. Handsome fella you got out there. The posh one.” Moran said in hushed tones just for John.

 

John hummed non-committedly as he watched the resident work. He was doing great and nearly had the uterus detached.

 

“How long have you two been together?”

 

John glanced up as he redressed in sterile gear, “We just met today.”

 

“So you’re not fucking yet. Got it. You always had a type, Watson. Tall, dark, handsome.” Moran laughed, as he set the intact uterus aside for proper disposal. “You prefer the loud blokes. You know the ones - so flamboyant it hurts. Of course they all worship Dr. Watson and his giant cock—

  
"OI!" John shouted, startling both the resident and the nurse cleaning behind them. “Can we get back to work?”

 

Moran wiped the smirk off his face, then nodded his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s got a secret :) 
> 
> Comments kudos fuck yous! Whatever floats your goat!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, thank you to both G and Meg. You guys are fucking rockstars

John Watson felt his phone buzz before he heard it. It was the third text message received in less than so many minutes. He felt a smile creep onto his face, as the taxi pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street. The building was a plain brown brick building and with a Speedy’s Cafe next to it. John paid the fare, and climbed out of the cab. He was still looking at the building.

 

“You owe me ten pounds. Told you I could walk here faster than the cab could take you.” Sherlock grinned, as he ruffled his curls. 

 

John laughed, and clapped his hand to Sherlock’s arm. “How about dinner?”

 

“Starving.” Sherlock admitted, knocking on the door. A tall thin woman answered it and pulled Sherlock into her arms.

 

“Oh, Sherlock! You said you’d be right back. That was five days ago.” She admonished.

 

“Complications arose in the form of three new nieces.” Sherlock said, with a kiss on her cheek. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and showed them off. 

 

John stood by him, almost too close for comfort. Sherlock tilted the camera phone so John could see the girls he brought into the world. 

 

“They’re cute, but are you okay, Sherlock? Have you eaten lately?” the women asked, in her typical fussy manner.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson. John,” Sherlock grinned widely and motioned to John with his hand. “John Watson and I had breakfast this morning at his old place.”

 

“If you could call it breakfast! He woke me up at 02:00 to go look at the sky with him.” John said, holding his hand out for her to shake. “Nice to meet you Mrs. Hudson.”

 

“Mr. Watson-”

 

“It’s John.” John corrected politely. 

 

“John, lovely to meet Sherlock’s young man. Come with me, boys.” Mrs. Hudson turned on her heel and started up the seventeen steps.

 

John looked at Sherlock with a questioning look. “I’m not his boyfriend, Mrs. Hudson.” John said finally, as he followed her up the steps. Sherlock shut the door behind him and took the stairs two at a time. 

 

Mrs. Hudson let them into the flat, and stood off to the side. Together they entered, and started to inspect the place. 

 

“Plenty of common space,” Sherlock murmured as he stalked around the room.

 

“The bedrooms?” John asked, glancing at the landlady. 

 

“There’s one just to the left, and one upstairs if you’ll be needin’ two.”

 

“Of course we’ll need two. Again, I state Sherlock’s not my boyfriend.” John wandered up the stairs, to inspect the bedroom. It was small and compact, but large enough for him. He glanced out the window to see his favorite sweetheart, London spread out in all her glory.  _ This place is fantastic _ . He came back downstairs and joined Sherlock by his side.  “What do reckon, ‘Lock?”

 

“We were just discussing the price, John.” Sherlock said, “I think it’s in our price range.” 

 

“Oh, fantastic. There’s a great view upstairs.”

 

“We’ll take it, Mrs. H.” Sherlock’s face lit up with glee when he glanced at Mrs. Hudson. 

 

“Oh, that’s wonderful! You boys want tea? Just this once. I’m not your housekeeper, dears.” Mrs. Hudson disappeared out of the flat and down to her own.

 

John plopped down on the couch. “‘Lock, 02:00 is not an appropriate time to knock on a friend’s door.”

 

“Why not? You weren’t asleep. You haven’t slept in days judging by the beard growth.” Sherlock paced the space as they talked. “Besides, it was a meteor shower. Not the rarest one, but a fantastic one.”

 

“It was quite nice.” John yawned, as he stretched out on the couch.

 

“No, John. It was spectacular. Getting the perfect view was the hardest part.” Sherlock continued to flap around the room.

 

John murmured, “Mmm.” Hepulled the blanket off the back of the couch, and slipped his shoes off. Sherlock’s pacing was rhythmic. It didn’t take much for John to fall asleep after being awake for so many days. 

 

John’s breathing evened out, and Sherlock faltered in his pacing. He finally looked at John who was snoozing peacefully. Sherlock stared at John’s sleeping figure. Sleep had softened his features, not that they had been hard to begin with. 

 

He’s quite handsome with a beard. A sluggish thought came to the foreground as he stared. 

 

Sherlock shook his head, then glanced at the door. He hustled out of it, and ran down the steps to Mrs. H’s apartment. He barged in, and called out, “Mrs. H, you can’t go up there!”

 

“Oh, Sherlock! Why ever not?”

 

“John fell asleep.” 

 

“Poor lad. I bet he’s exhausted.”

 

“He is, obviously.” Sherlock huffed. “What do I do?”

 

“What do you mean?” Mrs. H laughed. 

 

“Do keep up, Mrs. H. John Watson. The man I’m moving in with. He fell asleep. On the couch.”

 

Mrs. H. placed her hand on his cheek with a gentle smile. “There is nothing to do, Sherlock-”

 

“But he’s sleeping.” 

 

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, and picked up the telephone on the wall, dialling a number and waiting for the call to go through. “Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Sherlock needs someone who speaks Holmes.” She handed the phone to Sherlock who rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes?” he said, tersely. 

 

“‘Lock, it’s Greg. What is going on?”

 

“Oh good lord, woman. You called my handler?”

 

Mrs H shrugged her shoulder, and kissed his cheek before she disappeared into the back.

 

“John and I came to look at an apartment. Mrs. Hudson went to make us tea. I’m not sure what happened but John is sleeping on the couch.” 

 

“Oh.” Greg said suddenly, then lowered his voice. “Did you boys fuck? Is that why you’re panicking?”

 

“No, Greg, we didn’t. Why would you assume he’s like that?”

 

“Why else would you panic?”

 

“I’m not panicking.” 

 

“‘Lock, why don’t you try some deep breaths?” 

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and hung up the phone. 

 

“I’m going out, Mrs H.” Sherlock stalked out of the apartment, and went back upstairs. Silently he entered his new apartment, and made his way over to the leather chair that was closest to the window. He sat down in the chair, and went into his mind palace.

  
  


John stretched and yawned. He flicked his wrist to illuminate his wristwatch. He peeled an eye open to look at the time. 18:03. 

 

He rubbed his face and forced his eyes to open. He yawned and tried to sit up. He glanced around the room. He felt an amused look creep onto his face when he saw Sherlock snoozing. 

 

_ Well maybe he was napping. He looks like he’s napping _ . “‘Lock, you sleeping too?”

 

Sherlock’s eye popped open as John studied him. “I was in my Mind Palace.” 

 

John nodded as if he understood, unwilling to pursue the conversation. “I’m starving. You still up for dinner?”

 

“Absolutely. Angelo’s?”

 

“I’ve never been there.” 

 

“It’s Italian. The owner is a criminal.” Sherlock said, jumping up off the chair. “He makes a really nice grilled cheese sandwich though.” 

 

“Grilled cheese?” John laughed, rubbing his face. 

 

“It’s the grill top surface. Cooks it perfectly.” 

 

“I can make you that.” John said, stretching. “We’ll run to Tesco’s and head back to my place. I’ve got the pans-”

 

“No, that won’t do at all, John. Since we’re moving in here together, why don’t we cook here? We can buy the supplies at Tesco’s.”

 

“They don’t sell what we need at Tesco’s. We’d have to go to Harrod’s or Selfridges. I can’t afford to walk in those places, let alone buy anything,” John admitted. 

 

“I can. Myc gave me an allowance-” Sherlock scowled at that word. “From my inheritance from Avia. If we move in here, then we’ll need the stuff anyway, right?”

 

“Of course we will-”

 

“You mean you’ll come to the store with me?” 

 

John shrugged, non-committedly. “We’re friends. ‘Course I will.”

 

Sherlock ran his fingers through his curls. “That makes me feel so much better. Sometimes when I go out in public... It’s too much.”

 

“Too loud, too busy, too much?”

 

“Yes, and the deductions they just fly at me,” Sherlock admitted, then glanced at John. “Sorry your roommate’s so weird.”

 

“Oh my goodness, I’m never going to survive having a roommate with anxiety,” John flashed Sherlock a smile, then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the apartment. “Come on. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

 

“I’ve never had a friend before.” 

 

“Oh, come off it.” John elbowed the brunet to show his was joking. 

 

“I’m serious.” 

 

“What is wrong with the people you met before me? Come on, let’s go get on the tube.”

 

“The subway? No. We travel by taxi.” Sherlock threw his arm up and a cab pulled up. John climbed in and Sherlock followed. 

 

“Selfridge’s, please,” John directed the cab driver, then glanced down at Sherlock’s arm. He was still holding it.

 

_ Fuck. How long have I been clinging to him? Ugh, way to go Watson. Needy much? _ John thought as he hastily let go of Sherlock’s arm and stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

 

_ Although, he didn’t seem to mind. He’s far too handsome for a soldier like me. But if he’d lower himself, those lips have to taste delicious. Watson! He’s your friend.   _

 

“No friends?” John asked, a few minutes later once he pulled himself out of the thought spiral he was in.

 

“Hmm?” Sherlock asked, then realized what John said. “Correct. I grew up with my brother and my grandparents. I was my Avia’s favorite so I played with her and Myc a lot. You’ve been to my home. You-”

 

“That manor was your childhood home?” 

 

“For the first 18 years of my life.” Sherlock glanced over at John to gauge his reaction. “Then I moved to Oxford to pursue my third degree.”

 

“How many degrees do you have?” 

 

“Currently? Four. I’m pursuing a fifth.”

 

“What do you have left to learn?” John asked, as they pulled up in front of the store. Sherlock paid the cab driver, then bailed out of the cab. John followed Sherlock into the store. “Ok, so we need a frying pan, ‘Lock. Ceramic would be best.” 

 

Sherlock nodded, reading the aisle signs and leading the way. John followed without question, suspecting Sherlock knew where they were going better than he did. Sherlock walked down the aisle and picked up pans at random. Sherlock’s eyes moved rapidly over the shelves until he picked up one with a squeal of delight. “This is the one!” He held it out to John to inspect.

 

John took it from his hands, and looked it over. “This is a crepe pan.” 

 

“I know! I used to make them with my Avia.”

 

“You wanted grilled cheese.” John pointed out, but looked over the pan again. “Actually, this would be perfect. It’s large and flat. I like this one. Good work there love. So, now we go to the store to get-”

 

“We need plates. I’m not a barbarian.” 

 

“Will you wash them?” John’s eyebrow shot up, and smirked when Sherlock didn’t answer him. “I thought not. Still, it is better for the environment.” 

 

“We could get plastic ones.”

 

“John!” Sherlock scolded, astonished. “Are you serious? Plastic plates? No, John. We are not barbarians or cheapskates.” 

 

John stared at Sherlock, and wanted to simultaneously to sass back and flirt with the brunet. What came out was, “There’s nothing wrong with plastic!”

 

“The environment, John! We’ll purchase glass ones.”

 

“Will you clean them up when they break?” John changelled. “Because I am clumsy. They will break and if I step on glass-”

 

“Yes, I will clean up your broken glass.”

 

“And your own?” John asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Obviously, John.” Sherlock lied, with a kind smile. 

 

“I’m holding you to it.” John threatened. 

 

“Naturally.” Sherlock said, as he took off down another asile. John followed him blindly again. “Ah, yes!” John stood staring at the boxes. He groaned.

 

“Sherl, these prices are too expensive.” 

 

“Hush, John. My treat.”

 

“’Lock, you can’t buy everything!” John protested. “I-”

 

“Nonsense, John.” Sherlock waved his hand imperiously. “Now, pick a set of dishes, while I go find silverware and a knife set.” 

 

John watched the tall brunet’s retreating figure, before he turned back to the dishes sets. They were all either flower patterned or feminine. None of them appealed to John until he was at the end of the aisle and he found a box that was shoved to the back with a bright yellow sale sticker on it. The plates were brown, black, and blue with four of the same colored glasses. He picked up the box, and saw it included four large plates, cups, small plates and tea mugs. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sherlock returning to him. Sherlock nodded his approval, as he carried his promised items. Sherlock then led the way to the till. The cashier rang them out without much chit chat. The boys exited the building and waited for a cab. 

 

When one came, they climbed into the car and drove to the Tesco’s by their house. At Tesco’s, they claimed a buggy and started to fill it with all sorts of food. Bread, cheese, lunch meat, butter, bacon, flour, salt, and more. John gave up arguing about buying stuff because Sherlock would just add it to the cart, twice. 

 

After they cashed out at Tesco’s, a black sedan was waiting for them. 

 

“Myc does this occasionally. He watches CCTV and sends a car for me,” Sherlock reassured John, before he pulled the door open for him. 

 

“Yeah, this is completely normal.”

 

“Sarcasm?”

 

“Absolutely.” 

 

Quickly the two of them loaded up the sedan, then climbed in the backseat. The car ride home was a silent one.

 

Once the car stopped, they got out the car before loading up on bags. They knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street. The door was opened by a harried looking Mrs. Hudson. She shook her head disapprovingly, but stepped out of their way.  The two men trundled up the stairs to their rooms, and let themselves in. 

 

They went about unloading the groceries, and the kitchen items. John washed the dishes while Sherlock picked over the bags of food snacking at random. 

 

“Oh, John! Blueberries are my favorite!” He pulled the container out of the bag, and popped one in his mouth. John glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Sherlock close his eyes and savor the pop of the berry bursting in his mouth.

 

_ Pure bliss. I wonder how I could get him to make that face more often. Obviously sex is out of the question. He’s not that type. I’m completely that type though. _ John thought watching him eat the fruit.  _ Fuck! I’m staring.  _ John averted his eyes back to the dishes, and fought to keep the creeping blush at bay. 

 

He lost. 

 

Vigorously he scrubbed the new dishes trying to stop himself from thinking downright delicious thoughts about his new friend and roommate. 

 

“John, do pay attention.” Sherlock’s voice broke through his internal argument. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight or listen to music?”

 

“I was going to read.”

 

“What are you reading?”

 

“Treasure Island.”

 

“Oh! Read it aloud!” Sherlock grinned at him. “I love pirates.”

 

John picked up the dish towel and dried the crepe pan. “Can you work on putting groceries away?” John asked, as he placed the crepe pan on the stove. He grabbed the supplies he needed to make grilled cheese. “And pirates? Really?”

 

“They’re incredibly stimulating.” 

 

John smirked, as he buttered bread. “Very interesting.” 

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John as he put away a box of pasta. “Pirates? Oh yes, they are.” 

 

“You said stimulating at first.” John grinned, as he made the sandwiches. 

 

“Oh! Yes! There’s so much lore and false facts out there. It’s just a fun mental exercise to try to see what’s real-”

 

“I’m sorry, ‘Lock. I can’t seem to get a read on you. One minute you’re telling me you’ve got an intellectual interest in pirates, then next, you make a comment that’s vaguely sexual. You make my head spin.”

 

Sherlock glanced at him, with a sly grin as he continued to find homes for their groceries. “I’ve been studying pirates since I was 4. My interests have evolved over time.”

 

_ I wonder if I could get a pirate costume for Halloween _ , is what John thought. He said, “Let’s watch Pirates of the Caribbean.”  He flipped the stove on. 

 

“Oh, no, John. Read to me.” Sherlock said, in almost a pleading manner. 

 

John pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. He started the audibles app, and pressed start on Treasure Island. “Free download from my Army days. James was fond of listening to books while we- Dated.” 

 

“I have an ex too.” Sherlock said, suddenly. “That’s not just you Army men that have them.”

 

John studied Sherlock as he talked. His body language went from relaxed to anxious. “Whatever sort of fucker she”- He knew full well that Sherlock liked men, but wanted to know if he liked women too- “was didn’t deserve you.”

 

“He.” Sherlock corrected, tucking his hands into his pockets. Sherlock glanced down at his shoes. “There’s nothing wrong with liking men.” 

 

“Of course not. I like men and women.” John was unsure if Sherlock was talking to himself or John so he did what felt natural.  He walked over to Sherlock and pulled him into a hug. “Forgive me for assuming that you as an Alpha meant you preferred women.” 

 

“Nothing to forgive.” Sherlock muttered, hugging him back. John snuggled into Sherlock’s arms, and fought with himself not to deeply inhale. 

 

John pulled away and attended to the sandwiches, flushed in the face. The words of the audiobook continued to play, but John couldn’t focus on them.

 

_ I am so fucked. Moran called it.  _

 

“That hug was quite nice. Do friends do that?” Sherlock asked idly, his mind filing the memory away for later examination. 

 

“Some friends. I do with my friends.” 

 

“It’s effective as a mood enhancer. Better than the medications Avia made me try.” 

 

John flipped the sandwiches over and then glanced at Sherlock. He was staring at John as he worked.  

 

“I thought about psychology before I picked OB.” John admitted offhandedly as he tried to steer his thoughts away from how Sherlock looked with no shirt on. 

 

“Why OB? I’ve already gone through the obvious reasons, your own experiences, the skill required, the level of knowledge. None of them seem particularly up to your-”

 

“I delivered a baby as a resident. I was 22 at the time, and it was the best feeling I’ve ever had. There’s nothing better than all the hard work and skill that goes into-”

 

“Addicting.” Sherlock confirmed. “I can see that.”

 

“It is addicting, but it’s also-” John grabbed a plate and placed the sandwiches on it. “Incredible. Fascinating. It’s a rush. Honestly, when it’s done right, it’s fun. I mean for me, not the parent laboring.” 

 

“You’re an odd man, John Watson.” Sherlock said with a laugh. He looked at John fondly for just the briefest second, before he rearranged his face to be more neutral. 

 

“No odder than you, Sherlock Holmes.” John pointed at him with his spatula. “I’m going to finish these sandwiches and head into the living room when they’re ready.. Why don’t you go in and get settled? I’ll be right out as soon as the food’s ready.”

 

Sherlock grabbed up the blueberries he hadn’t stopped picking at, and John’s phone before he disappeared into the living room. He came back out to grab drinks for John and himself then went back in. 

 

After a few minutes, John joined him with a plate of sandwiches. Sherlock picked one up and took a big bite. “These are hot!” He exclaimed as he stared at them as though they had personally insulted him.

 

“Yes, blame the sandwich because you were too hurried-”

 

“I’m hungry. You had me up at 02:00 to look at the stars, John.” Sherlock huffed, feeling a bit tetchy. 

 

“I did?” John laughed, as he took a sip of his beer. “I seem to remember someone breaking into my apartment-”

 

“Very kind of you not to mention that to Mrs H. She’s not very… proud of my criminal skills.”

 

“How does Mycroft feel?” 

 

Sherlock smiled that overtly ridiculous grin of his, “Myc taught me.”

 

John’s eyes crinkled in laughter, as he glanced at Sherlock. “Get out of here.”

 

“Dead serious. I was ten or eleven. He told me all good pirates knew how to pick locks. Grandfather was not amused in the least. Avia and I had a giggle over it.” Sherlock took a bite again and chewed it before adding, “What was it like for you growing up?”

 

“Ah, well.” John took a bite of the sandwiches before continuing. “Just Mum and I. Dad fucked off somewhere in Wales and made a new family. Mum was a bank manager. She married about 7 years ago. He’s a lovely man that has improved my Mum’s life so I’m happy.”

 

Sherlock took a bite of sandwich, thoughtful as John clenched his left hand and shook it out. “Are you ok?”

 

“Fine.” John said, glancing at his palm. “Just a bit of a twinge.”

 

“Did you grow up in London?”

 

“Can we change the subject? I don’t like talking about my past very much.” 

 

“What do you do for fun,then?” Sherlock asked, pointedly. “It’s something I heard people,” Sherlock said  people so disdainfully that John couldn’t suppress the smirk. “do when they aren’t working or doing basic things.”

 

“I haven’t had fun in years. Working too much. I used to read, write, play football, and rugby. I also used to sing. Warble really.”

 

“You sing?”

 

John smiled, “Quite poorly. I’ll sing when you play your violin for me.”

 

“Oh, that.” Sherlock waved his hand, and snagged another sandwich.  

 

“Why didn’t you pursue a career in music?”

 

“Everyone in music has such an ego and well, I can’t compete.” Sherlock shrugged, then took a bite of his sandwich.

 

“Please, will you play the violin for me?” John asked, placing a half-eaten sandwich down on the plate. 

 

“Oh, John. I don’t know. It’s been years since I played for an audience. My Avia’s funeral, to be precise.”

 

“Please, ‘Lock.” John begged with a slight whine, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to wrap around himself. 

 

Sherlock nodded, then stood up and went into his bedroom. He pulled the case out from underneath the bed, and gently stroked it. 

 

_ Hello, old girl. It’s me, Sherlock. I hope you remember me. There’s a gorgeous lad out there that I want to impress and I really need your help. _

 

Gently, Sherlock pulled his violin out, and placed his chin on the rest. With his other hand, he picked up the bow and placed it on the strings. He closed his eyes, and just held his violin. 

 

_ Oh, how have I missed you!  _

 

Sherlock thought about his favorite pieces of music, and allowed himself to get lost in the music. Slowly he danced around the room as he played. The piece ended too soon, so he started another one, and swayed as he played. 

 

After he finished his third piece, he decided to return to John’s side on the couch and returned the violin to its case.

 

“You are amazing.” John said, with a soft smile, his head leaning back on the couch. 

 

“Thank you, John. I missed playing her.” Sherlock said, with a smile. “Eat up, John or I shall eat all the delicious sandwiches you made and there will be none left for you.”

 

John smiled, “You should finish them. My stomach is suddenly upset. It’s probably just the beer on an empty stomach. Don’t let them go to waste.”

 

“Oh, I won’t. I wish you felt better.” Sherlock said, forlornly.

 

“I’ve probably just got a little bug from working in the new surgery center. It’ll pass in a few days.”  John said, as he watched Sherlock’s mind race. “Oh, do turn your brain off, love. It’s exhausting.” 

 

“I’m trying to understand why you’re sick. You were fine twentyminutes ago.” 

 

“I told you, ‘Lock. Just some virus I picked up at the outpatient surgicenter.”

 

“But I don’t understand how you are the only person who got sick at all. I was there. Greg was there. Myc was there. We’re all fine.” 

 

“Please, I’m begging you. I just want to sleep.” John whinged, then exhaled harshly. “I’m sorry, ‘Lock. I ruined the first night in our new place.”

 

“You can’t help you don’t feel well.” Sherlock said, as he finished another sandwich. “You could go lay down in your bedroom. I bet Mrs. H changed the sheets for us.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” John said, as he sat up.  He pushed the blanket off him and shivered a second later.

 

“Can I help you get upstairs or something?”

 

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” John said, as he got to his feet and shuffled slowly up the stairs. He stripped down to his pants, and crawled under the covers. John curled up on himself and tried to ignore his rolling stomach. Something was wrong with him, but it didn’t behave like any virus or illness he’d ever gotten before in his life.

  
  


At some point in the middle of the night, Sherlock snuck in to check on John as he slept. He brought a cup of tea with him in case John woke up. John was snoring lightly and had kicked off his blankets. Sherlock carefully placed the tea on the wardrobe.  Sherlock glanced down at John’s nearly nude form, and froze. 

 

Light blonde hair covered John’s entire body except where bright red pants were covering his groin and arse. Sherlock’s eyes roved over him again. He closed his eyes. 

 

“John, It’s Sherlock. I brought you tea, because Greg said that when you’re sick it’s good to have tea, but you’re nearly naked and I’m just going to go.” Sherlock rambled, trying to convince himself to just shut up and leave the room. 

 

“I’m awake,” John murmured, as he forced his eyes to open. He managed to sit up and hold his hand out for the tea mug. Sherlock retrieved it and placed it in his hand, somehow keeping his hand over his eyes. “’Lock-” John sniffed the tea.

 

Sherlock removed his hand, and glanced at John’s face. It was pale and sweat covered. “How are you feeling?”

 

John took a delicate sip, and groaned in pleasure. “Just needed some tea, I think. How are your nieces?”

 

“Well. Greg was texting me a few minutes ago and told me to check on you.”  

 

“And bring me tea?” John inquired with a raising of his eyebrows as he swallowed another sip. 

 

“That was me.” 

 

“Thank you, ‘Lock. I feel 75% better already.”  John yawned, with a glance at this left hand holding the tea cup. There was something dark on his palm. Maybe it was just a shadow. “Just like Ten, I needed some of Britain's finest.” John handed the empty mug back to Sherlock. 

 

“I’m going to go to bed, John. Sorry to have bothered you while you were sleeping.” 

 

“No need to apologize. Good night, Sherlock.” John said, watching Sherlock leave again. He looked down at his palm and gasped. Starting to form was a diamond shape with scrolls the at top and bottom. A slight twinge of pain as a large oval appeared in the center of the diamond. 

 

John stared at it, trying to process what he was seeing. He tilted his wrist into the light from the small window. The whole mark was easily identifiable by anyone who took a moment to think about it. It was the fanciest lock in the world, second the posh man downstairs.

 

“Well, fuck.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEE A SOUL MARK!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Lock finds out about John’s Soulmark. Myc’s an idiot. Date night for Johnlock!

Sherlock Holmes was doing something he’d never done before. That was changing a diaper on a 6 week old squalling infant. His wily niece, Beth, the one that resembled him the most, was not making the diaper change any easier. He giggled to himself, as they fought each other to get a new diaper on her. 

 

“Now, Beth Holmes, you need to stay still while your favorite Uncle works. If you can’t do that, I’m afraid I’m going to have the incompetent Dr. Watson change your nappy and-”

 

“Oi!” John called. “I didn’t drop my one and only child.”

 

“I almost dropped her!” Sherlock called back, lifting his niece into his arms. “And it won’t happen again, will it, darling girl?” Sherlock redressed his niece before he carried her into John. “Your turn, John. Go change Amy and Jo’s diapers.”

 

“It’s already done.” John turned back around with a grin. 

 

“You cheated!”

 

“I had a packed diaper bag?” John asked. “It’s not cheating. If you would have listened to me, you could have changed her in here too.” 

 

“Cheater.”  Sherlock said, as he settled down onto the couch, placing his niece into the crook of his elbow before he popped a bottle in her mouth. “John, being a dad is easy. All the babies do is eat, sleep-”

 

“It’s tiring work growing up, ‘Lock. Don’t you remember what it was like? A brain as big as yours?” John had placed the girls in car seats before he knelt and fed them bottles. 

 

Sherlock’s eyes idly fell on John’s muscular back as he fed his niece. Happily she suckled at the bottle, so Sherlock got lost in the lines of John’s back. John’s shirt clung to his muscular frame, especially when he leaned over to fuss with one of their nieces. Sherlock drew his eyes down, to the curve of the blonde’s arse. His trousers were snug against his bum, causing Sherlock to lick his lips. 

 

_ John Watson isn’t wearing any pants. How deliciously sinful ….The best part is his naked toes tucked under that beautiful, perfect arse- _

 

Sherlock’s text tone went off, interrupting the dirty thoughts in his mind. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it open to a message from his brother.

 

_ ’Lock-Did something change in your relationship with John? MH _

 

_ What are you talking about? John’s my friend! SH _

 

The next text message was a picture of John’s left palm with a large ornamental lock tattooed on it.

 

_ Why are you showing me someone’s tattoo? SH _

 

_ That is John’s Soul Mark. How do you not know about this? MH _

 

_ If it is HIS Soul Mark, it’s none of your damn business. SH _

 

_ Apparently, it’s not because of you. That’s a damn relief. We don’t need an American doctor in our family. MH _

 

_ Oh, do shut up. _

 

Sherlock tossed his phone to the side, and looked again at John’s back. “John, can I see your left palm?” 

 

John’s entire body stiffened, before he asked cautiously, Why do you ask?”

 

“Myc sent me a picture of your palm and I want to see your new tattoo myself.” 

 

“It’s not a tattoo, Sherlock.” John said, quietly. “It’s a Soul Mark, but I think you already knew that.” 

 

“Why do you have one, John? Have you met someone?”

 

John put the empty bottles to the side before he picked up one of the babies to burp her. Efficiently he managed one then the other. Sherlock continued to study his body posture, stiff almost as if he was fighting with himself. John placed pacifiers in both of their mouths before he turned to Sherlock, with a curious look on his face. “Would you like tea?”

 

“No, John. I want to see your tattoo.”

 

“’Lock.” John pleaded. “Please let this subject go.” 

 

Sherlock’s pleading eyes met with confused ones. “I am trying to understand, John. Soul Marks are fasci-”

 

“Don’t lie to me.” John turned his face away, before he stood up. “Watch your nieces, yeah? I’m going to make some tea.”

 

Sherlock stared at John as he walked off to the kitchen. Sherlock grabbed his phone and sent a message to Greg.

 

_ Did you know John has a Soul Mark? SH _

 

_ He does? Interesting. GH _

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and sent another message to Mycroft. 

 

_ How did you get this information? Are you trying to make John hate me? SH _

 

_ You shouldn’t be married to an American doctor. MH _

 

_ I’m not married to anyone. SH _

 

_ John moves in with you and he gets a Soul Mark. What can one deduce from that? You know well enough what it means. MH _

 

_ John meets a lot of people in his day to day life. It means nothing. SH _

 

“Sherl?” John asked, holding a tea tray with biscuits. “Greg left us some biscuits. He said they were your favorite.” 

 

“Oh, that would be lovely.” Sherlock looked John over with kindness in his eyes. Sherlock glanced down at Beth who was resting peacefully on his chest. Sherlock leaned forward and snagged a cookie off the tray. John sat next to him, a bit awkwardly, and politely ignored him to pour himself tea.  He sat back on the couch and held his teacup resolutely in his left hand. 

 

“So we’re not going to discuss your hand?”

 

“Why would we, ‘Lock? It’s hardly new.”  John sighed.

 

“Why do you have it?”

 

“Obviously I’ve met my mate.” John mumbled, trying sound haughty. 

 

“Oh, is it that nice nurse at that clinic you were at a few weeks ago?”

 

John glanced at him, then shook his head. “I’m an Omega. My soulmate is an Alpha. You have an ex. You know the rules.”

 

Sherlock studied John’s posture and realized that he’d been hiding the mark from Sherlock. He bit his lip as he thought. “John, can we trade? I’ll tell you about my ex, if you give me 2 minutes to stare at your tattoo.”

 

“Two good things and one bad thing for 1 minute.” 

 

“I only remember bad things.”

 

“Three things for 1 minute, then.” 

 

“Shall I set my timer, or start telling you about my ex?”

 

“I’m curious about the man who you deigned to date,” John said, “and if my opinion counts for anything, I’d like to start there.” 

 

Sherlock nodded, then said in a low voice as he stared at the top of Beth’s head. “My ex-fiancee is a currently a lawyer. He’s very rich, which is stupid because he isn’t a very good lawyer. He proposed to me, and took my virginity that night. Myc introduced us.” 

 

“One more thing, ‘Lock, please.”

 

Sherlock glanced up at John’s pleading tone. When he met John’s eyes there was something there he usually didn’t see directed at him. Interest in what he was saying. “His name is Victor Trevor and he is a terrible man.” 

 

John looked Sherlock over, his arms were crossed over Beth and he refused to make eye contact, instead staring at John’s trainers. John wanted to ask, “what makes him a bad man?” but Sherlock’s body language was saying, “don’t even ask.”

 

John held his hand out to Sherlock who shifted his niece to pull the cool hand close to his face. Sherlock stared at the Soul Mark.

 

“It’s a Soul Mark.”

 

“Yes.” John confirmed, searching Sherlock’s face for any trace of emotion. 

 

“A lock shaped one.”

 

John nodded, still staring at Sherlock’s face. “And my flatmate’s nickname is “Lock.” Do you understand?” 

 

“A Soul Mark doesn’t mean that we have to get married.” Sherlock said finally. John nodded, but didn’t say anything. He continued to stare at Sherlock as he studied John’s palm. A strange sort of smile played across Sherlock’s face finally, before he said, “Well, I guess I’m not the prettiest lock in your life anymore.” 

 

John’s jaw fell open. He pulled his hand back and asked with a laugh,  “Are you joking? Is that a joke?”

 

“Yes, of course. I know I’m the prettiest lock in your life.” Sherlock leaned back onto the couch, grinning at his friend who was laughing hard enough to wet his pants. 

 

John struggled to get himself under control, and finally managed to say, “You know my secret, now.”

 

“It’s good secret.” Sherlock admitted softly, as he rubbed his niece’s back.

 

“But the thing with Soul Marks, you don’t know if it’s meant to be a spouse or platonic. I  _ do  _ enjoy taking care of you so if you don’t want to be my sweetheart, I accept that but if you’d like to pursue-” John glanced down at the lock on his left hand.  “I’m open to it.”

 

Without hesitation, Sherlock asked, “You mean, we could go on a date?”

 

John sipped his tea and thought about the proposal. “What about tonight? I’ll pick you up about 7:30?”

 

“Can’t we go on one now? 7:30 such a long way off.” 

 

“Oh my darling boy, I would love to, but I have a job interview. I need to do something with my life. I can’t just be a laze-about-”

 

“Of course. 7:30 would be great.” Sherlock interrupted John’s thought.

 

“Shall I pick you up here or at our place?”

 

“Oh, here’s good. You know Greg likes my company. I’m still not sure how that happened.”

 

“Greg’s got good tastes is all.”  

 

“He married my brother, so I don’t know about that.” Sherlock managed to get out as the front door was pushed open. 

 

“Hello, Sherlock?” Greg called out, coming into the room. 

 

“Hey Greg.” John greeted, glancing up. “Amy and Jo just fell asleep about ten minutes ago. Beth’s a spoiled brat and hasn’t been out of Sherlock’s arms all morning.” 

 

“Myc is parking the car. He was able to take half a day and come home early.”

 

“Oh, joy.” Sherlock drawled, idly. 

 

John smiled, then stood up. “That is my cue to vamoose. Sherl, I’ll see you tonight at 7:30. Greg, thanks for letting me play with the babies.” 

 

Greg pulled John into a hug, before he whispered, “You’re going to be family. You don’t get to leave without a hug.”

 

John squawked in surprise, but instantly returned the hug. “Call me next time you need a sitter for the girls.”

 

“You got it man.” Greg agreed. John looked at Sherlock with calculating look, before he ducked out. 

 

John took two steps out of the house before he was confronted with his roommate’s big brother. “Mycroft.”  John nodded, trying to step aside. Mycroft placed a hand on John’s arm.

 

“Hello, John. May I have a moment of your time?” He inquired, overly polite with a bite of Alpha Authority in his voice. John glared at the hand, until it was pulled away, then he shifted his eyes upwards to Mycroft’s. He continued to stare Mycroft down as his own spine stiffened, making him stand taller. 

 

“If it’s truly a moment, I do have obligations to attend to.”

 

“Then I’ll be brief,” Mycroft pressed his lips together in what should have been a smile, but was merely a grimace. “I have become aware of your Soul Mark and I know the implications that it carries. I also know that my brother is far too immature to make the correct decision regarding his own well being, so I’m appealing to you. How much money will it take for you to disappear from Sherlock’s life?”

 

“Excuse me?” John asked, bristling. 

 

“Oh, pardon me. I’m going to pay you a large sum of money to get you to disappear from Sherlock’s life. Is that much simpler for such an ill-mannered American to understand?”

 

“Mycroft Holmes. You are an abhorrent man. I like your brother. He’s clever, funny, and interesting. Did you know he can cook?”

 

“Of course I knew that-”

 

“He’s kind, too. I’ve complained once about him leaving experiments in the kitchen, and he cleans them up now. You-” John cut himself off, and ran his fingers through his hair. “You are the worst sort of person. Who robs someone they love, especially their only brother, of something that could be life defining? Also, to throw your money at me. Like there’s a large enough amount to get me to walk away from Sherlock. He makes me happy-”

 

“I have very deep pockets.” Mycroft said, slipping his hands in his pockets. 

 

John’s nostrils flared out in anger. “I am not a problem you can buy off. You can’t throw money at me, and make me dance like a trained monkey-”

 

“I’m an Alpha,  _ Omega _ , and you’d do well to remember that.”

 

“You may be an Alpha, but you are not my Alpha.  _ My _ Alpha is in your living room snuggling his niece-” 

 

“ _ Your _ Alpha? Sherlock bloody Holmes is no one’s Alpha.”

 

John clenched his fists in anger. He forced his left hand open and showed it to Mycroft. “This Soul Mark says differently. Sherlock Holmes is _ my _ Alpha regardless of what you try to pull.” John pulled his hand back, and slipped past Mycroft. “So you need to find a way to deal with it, because I’m here to stay.” 

 

John didn’t pause his steps as he walked out of the yard. He pivoted on his heel, to face Mycroft once more, “Next time you call me an American, I’m going to break your nose. I spent ten years in Her Majesty’s Royal Army, nearly dying more than once all for Her Majesty. I love this country more than anything else. Don’t be such a daft arsehol-”

 

“Are you quite done?” Mycroft interrupted trying to keep a bored expression on his stuck up face. 

 

“Piss off, Mycroft Holmes.” John called, as he started walking again. 

 

Mycroft watched him disappear down the country lane before he turned to go back in the house. He toed his shoes off by the door, before he made his way into the living room where his family was sitting. He leaned over and plucked Jo out of her baby seat before he settled down in his armchair across from the other two grown men. 

 

“Hello, brother mine, husband mine. I just had the most illuminating conversation with Dr. Watson before I came in today. He refuses to be bought off-”

 

“Myc!” Sherlock shouted, shocked. “I can’t believe you’d try to push him away!”

 

“He’s not good enough for you-”

 

“Shut up, Myc.” Greg commanded, standing up. He started pacing in the living room as he patted Amy on her back. “This is so fucking ridiculous. I told you interfering with Sherlock’s love life is not something you should do. He’s a bloody adult, and for fuck’s sake, Mycroft. You tried to pay him off? What kind of fucked up-”

 

“Oi!” Sherlock ejeculated. “You said I wasn’t allowed to curse-”

 

“Lock, be quiet,” Greg snapped. “Mycroft Holmes. I’m going to tell you how it’s going to be. You’re going to apologize to ‘Lock, John, and myself-”

 

“No way!” Mycroft shouted, startling Jo awake. Mycroft stood up, and started pacing around the room,  carefully avoiding his irate husband. He patted his daughter on her back as he moved.

 

“Alpha.” Greg said, with a clear warning in his voice. “You will do as your Omega commands. You will apologize to ‘Lock, John, and me. You will be cordial to John. Need I remind you who choose ‘Lock’s last boyfriend?”

 

Mycroft cleared his throat in embarrassment. “No, darling you don’t need to remind me.”

 

“John and I have a date tonight.” Sherlock announced, suddenly in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

 

“’Lock!” Greg turned to beam at him. “I’m so happy for you. Where are you boys going?”

 

“I don’t know, yet. Probably Angelo’s. That’s John’s favorite place.”

 

“Myc, can you please excuse us?” Greg asked, pointedly trying to convey to Myc that he wanted to talk privately to the lad. 

 

“This is my house-” Mycroft started, then sighed as he walked upstairs.

 

Greg turned back to Sherlock, with a grin. “’Lock, I’m so happy for you. John is an incredible man. I have something I’d like to discuss with you, even though you’re not going to want to discuss it.”

 

“Greg, you don’t have to do this-”

 

“It’s a two part conversation. It’s going to happen regardless or shall I wait until John’s here and have it with the both of you?” 

 

“No. Just say it.” Sherlock waved his hand, before resting it on Beth’s back. 

 

“I’m going to have the tough talk first. Your only boyfriend was a gigantic fucking moron. The way he treated you was inexcusable. No one deserves to be treated like that. You are one of my favorite people in this world. You are my _ only _ friend, and even if you weren’t, you’d still be my best friend. What I’m trying to say is, you are so important to so many people. Your brother, the girls, myself. If you end up in a similar situation, or you’re afraid for yourself, call me, please.” 

 

Sherlock nodded. “Am I really your best mate?”

 

“’Course you are.” Greg said,in a tone that suggested it was rather obvious. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

 

“I’ve never been best mates with anyone before.” 

 

“Well, you can’t say that anymore, because you’re mine. I know that you assumed John Watson was going to be your friend, but I don’t think your connection ends there. I know it’s going to sound like I’m telling you what to do- I am going to do that. I’m going to tell you what you should do. You should date him. Romance the hell out of him. Date him so hard that he doesn’t remember what it feels like before you. Bring him flowers. Send him cute text messages. Turn your damn head off and be your fabulous self. Just remember that John likes you already.”

 

“He does?” Sherlock’s surprise was written on his face. 

 

“Yes he does. That brings me to part two of my talk. How much of what you did in the past with your ex was consensual?”

 

“Oh, everything! I like sex-”

 

“He never forced you to screw him when you didn’t want too?” 

 

Sherlock looked at Greg with a sad smile on his face. “We were engaged. I didn’t get a choice on whether or not I wanted sex. My partner wanted it, I had to participate.”

 

“That’s-.” Greg said, with a sad shake of his head. “No, ‘Lock. That’s not how that works… You had free will. You had the choice- You could have said ‘no thank you’ at any time.” 

 

Sherlock chewed the inside of his lip. “The one time I said ‘no’, he-” Sherlock glanced at Greg, then shook his head. “It’s ok, G. It happened years ago-”

 

“Have.” Greg paused, and studied Sherlock’s face. It showed nothing, but a bland smile. “Ok, my friend. I’m going to contact someone for you. I want you to talk about your past, your emotions, and everything, but I get the feeling you don’t want to talk to me about it with me. That’s ok.” Greg patted Sherlock’s arm gingerly.

 

Quietly he asked, “Can you not tell your husband about this?”

 

“I won’t tell your brother a word.”

 

“If you could find someone kind, I wouldn’t mind talking to them.” 

 

“It would be my pleasure to do this for you, Sherlock.”

  
  
  
  


A knock on the Holmes’ manor later that evening brought Greg to the door. John smiled as he was pulled into another hug. “I’m glad that you answered the door.”

 

“I wanted to talk to you before you disappear with ‘Lock. Can you come in?”

 

“Yeah, ‘course.”  John pulled out of the hug and followed Greg into the kitchen. 

 

Greg leaned against the counter, and glanced at John. “I just wanted to ask you to please treat ‘Lock with kid gloves. I’m not at liberty to say what all has happened, but his ex has not been good to him. So please, just be as kind and considerate as you can possibly be.” 

 

“I’ve sensed that. He sometimes gets a little… skittish when I move too fast or raise my voice.” John said in an off-hand manner. “Thank you for your concern, Greg. I will treat him with kid gloves. I really am enjoying his company.” 

 

“I’m so glad you came into his life.” Greg said softly, almost as if it was weighing on him. “Your influence on this family has been the best thing for us. Really, I’m not being an arse. Myc will come around to the two of you. He’s just protective, and honestly once he realizes that this is what ‘Lock wants-” Greg cut himself off, and blushed. “Yeah, sorry. ‘Lock does want to be with you, if he hadn’t said so yet. I can tell the way his eyes follow you and the way he says your name… If there’s one thing that I’m good at it is reading those Holmes’ men.”

 

“I’m starting to learn ‘Lock’s tells. He… He’s funny when he catches me studying him. Sometimes he clams up, then other times he practically dares me to study him.”

 

“You just think so loudly,” Sherlock said as he swept into the room. “At first, I didn’t realize what it was, then it hit me it’s your rusty old brain trying to sort stuff out.”

 

“Oi! I ask you out on a date, and you call me old!”

 

“Oh, you’re quite young John. It’s your brain that’s old and rusty.” Sherlock smiled, placing a chaste kiss on John’s cheek in greeting. John’s neck and cheeks turned quite red, but no complaints came out of his mouth. 

 

“Have fun you two. Be safe. Don’t talk to strangers. Wear a condom if you have sex-”

 

Sherlock grabbed John’s arm as he escaped out of the house pulling the shorter man along with him. When they climbed into the waiting taxi, they were both pink cheeked. As soon as the door shut, the driver took off. Sherlock rested his chin on his balled up fist. He glanced over at John, who was do the same thing. A giggle erupted out of Sherlock’s mouth, and he turned his head away from John, who glanced over at him. 

 

“Where are we going?” Sherlock asked, smiling at John. 

 

“Exclusive place. Took me weeks to get in.” 

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Luckily you came along and I was able to keep the reservation.” 

 

“John, did you see that Major Sholto’s getting a divorce?” Sherlock asked, carefully. Sherlock didn’t want to say this, but this thought got stuck in his mind, and he  _ had  _ to say something about it. “Maybe he wants to get back together with you.”

 

“’Lock, he wasn’t in love with me. It was simply a sex thing.”

 

“Has he called you?”

 

“He’s texted a few times, but I’ve deleted them.”

“Why would you do that? That’s-”

 

“Because I’d rather one text from you, than seventy from anyone else.” The words would out of John’s mouth before he could stop them. 

 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say to that, so he turned back to the window and glanced at it as the car came to a stop. He glanced at John, then back out the window. “This is our apartment.” 

 

“Like I said, it took me weeks to get into here.” John finished paying the cab driver, jumped out of the vehicle and rushed to open Sherlock’s door. “This way, please, Sir.” John held his arm out to Sherlock, who linked arms with him. 

 

“I thought we were going out.”

 

“After dinner. There’s this fantastic little ice cream place. They wouldn’t let us eat dinner in there. I tried.” 

 

John walked with Sherlock into their apartment building and followed him up the seventeen steps. John unlocked the door and pushed it open. Inside the rooms were dimly lit and a meal was laid out on the table. John helped Sherlock out of his coat and hung both coats up. John walked Sherlock over to his seat and pulled it out. 

 

“Have a seat-” John cut himself off Sherlock placed his hand on John’s. He stared at those two hands together, and fought the overwhelming urge to just lean up to kiss Sherlock. He could feel Sherlock lean in. A deep woodsy scent with just a hint of tobacco wrapped itself around John, who struggled not to breathe deeply. 

 

Sherlock felt his body lean in close to John and placed his chin gently on top of the older man’s head. His heart was racing, but for the first time since John had departed earlier that day, Sherlock felt safe. The strong, clean scent of John invaded his senses; antiseptic, soap, and the ever-pervading scent of tea. Sherlock moved his arms from the back of the chair and wrapped them around the Omega. He felt the blonde relaxing against him, and savored the feeling of the relaxed Omega- _ His Omega _ \- against his chest. 

 

“Sit, please.” John managed to instruct as he pulled away from the Alpha, simultaneously trying to clear Sherlock’s scent from his nostrils and maintain it.

 

Sherlock hastily sat down. “Your scent has changed, John.”

 

John looked at him in curiosity. “Has it?” John slid into his seat, then scowled at Sherlock. “You’ve started smoking.”

 

Sherlock cleared his throat, with a glance at John. “Babysitting is so boring, sometimes. Myc asked me to join him in a ciga-”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“Fine. I logged onto the chemistry lab and was doing some of my virtual labs. I needed the cigarettes to focus.” 

 

John raised an eyebrow, then placed his napkin onto his knee. “I do approve of the homework.”

 

“Well, John. The babies were numbing my mind.  _ Anyone _ can change a diaper or feed them, so I had to do something.”

 

“You should think about finishing your degree.” John said, tilting his head towards Sherlock. “Also, eat because you’re not going to like your dinner cold.”

 

“You made me grilled cheese with ham, I can smell it.”

 

“Please, eat something so I can eat something?” 

 

“John, that’s-” 

 

“I’m really uptight tonight. Please just take a bite.” John finally said, then sighed. “I’m sorry ‘Lock… I’m just feeling anxious tonight and I don’t know how to express it. I’m just worried about you. Please eat.”

 

“Hey, I’m okay, John. Everything’s great with me. I’m happy to be home.” To prove his point, he took two bites of the sandwich and chewed rapidly. “’S good, John.” He managed to say around a mouthful of food. 

 

“Sherlock, will you hold my hand across the table, please?” John asked, placing his hand palm up. Sherlock dropped the sandwich and reached across the table with his greasy fingers. Sherlock placed his hand on top of the outstretched palm and heard a loud sigh from across the table. With his free hand, he ate his sandwich quickly, before he pushed his plate away.

 

“Thank you for dinner, John. Please eat.” ‘Lock encouraged, flexing his fingers against the blonde’s palm. John nodded, then picked up his own sandwich and took a bite. Slowly he chewed and swallowed. Sherlock studied the doctor as he ate. 

 

“How did your interview go?”

 

“It went well, but I decided not to accept the position.” John placed his sandwich down, and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “They ultimately wanted me to run an abortion shop for the rich and elite. Compromising who I am as a human isn’t worth a paycheck.”

 

“I agree, John. Fantastic call.” 

 

“You approve?”

 

“Yes, of course I do. You deserve a rich and fulfilling career that doesn’t make you compromise who you are as a person.”

 

“So, you’re not upset that I’m not earning a paycheck yet?”

 

Sherlock’s eyebrows wrinkled together, in thought. “Is this why you’re anxious?”

 

John nodded, and curled his fingers up to touch more of Sherlock’s fingers. “I’ve never been in this position before I’ve always had a job. When I was in the Army, I used to work 70-80 hours a week on top of training and military shit-”

 

“Omega.” Sherlock said, in a stern voice. “I don’t expect you to provide for me. I enjoy when you take care of me, but I have money, John.  A lot of money. If you don’t ever get a morally satisfying job, we’ll be okay. In fact, if you wanted, we could travel the world for the rest of our lives and never earn a cent and still be beyond okay.” Twice Sherlock squeezed John’s hand, then asked in an authoritative tone, “Do you understand me?” 

 

John nodded at his words, and picked up his sandwich again. Determinedly he took a bite, and chewed. Softly he said, “Understood, Alpha. This is all new to me. When I was with James, it was mostly sex, but not even once did I feel like I owed him anything, let alone to cook him dinner.”

 

“When I was with Victor.” Sherlock stopped himself to squeeze John’s hand again. “I didn’t care like an Alpha should. He was- Obviously not for me. It was as if I was only with him because it was easy… Not because I wanted to be with him. Does that make sense?”

 

“Yes, it does.” John nodded, then asked, “You ready for ice cream?”

 

“Do you really want ice cream?” Sherlock asked,  _ certain _ that the answer was ‘no.’

 

“No, ‘Lock.”

 

“What would you like to do instead?”

 

“Snuggle.” John said, quickly. 

 

_ Will he really hold me? _ John thought to himself, as he looked at Sherlock who was processing his thoughts. 

 

Finally, Sherlock asked, “Shall I hold you or would you like a blanket nest?” 

 

“What do you know about blanket nests?” John asked, pushing his plate away from him. 

 

“Why don’t you go get comfortable, and I’ll join you in a mo’? I just want to clean the kitchen up and lock the front door.” 

 

John nodded, then stood up, and disappeared from the kitchen. Sherlock quickly cleaned up the kitchen, and put the remaining food in the fridge. He went to the apartment door and locked it. He walked through the apartment and turned off the lights. He stopped off in his bedroom to put pajamas on, when he saw a blonde head peeking out of his blankets. 

 

“John?” he asked, cautiously. “I don’t know if you’re asleep-”

 

“’Lock. It smells so good in here.” John said, audibly inhaling, tucking his face into Sherlock’s pillow. 

 

“Is that how you ended up in my bed?” 

 

“Oops?”

 

“Let me turn the lights off, John. I’ll crawl in behind you and hold you, if you’d like.”

 

“Yes, please.” 

 

He moved to flip off the light switch before grabbing pants from on top of his dresser. John’s clothes were scattered around the bed. Swiftly, Sherlock changed from his suit into his pj pants, then crawled into bed. He scooted close to John, who easily pressed himself back onto Sherlock’s waiting arms. Sherlock wrapped them around John’s toned body, slipping a knee between John’s thighs. John sighed in contentment, kissing  _ His Alpha’s _ hand. 

 

“This feels good, ‘Lock.” John murmured against the hand by his mouth.

 

“Is this snuggling? I like this, whatever it is.”

 

“Spooning, snuggling, cuddling, laying together,” John yawned. “You’re right, it’s good.”

 

“The best.” 

 

“Am I better than Victor?” John struggled to keep the jealousy out of his voice. 

 

“Hush now, my Omega. No talk of exes in bed.”

 

A few minutes of silence while John basked in the warmth radiating from both Sherlock and his pretty words. 

 

“Your skin feels so good on mine. How does it do that?”

 

“Because you’re freezing, John!” Sherlock pulled his blankets up to cover John up. John hummed happily, and leaned back against Sherlock’s naked chest. 

 

“Your skin is burning up. You’re too hot.”

 

“Oh, I think I’m adequately hot…” Sherlock smirked against John’s shoulder. “But it’s hard for you to tell all the way down there.”

 

“Oi!” John cried. “If I wasn’t so warm, safe, and comfortable I’d fight you for that.” 

 

Sherlock chuckled, then managed to say, “Not if I stood up on the table. You couldn’t reach me.”

 

John nudged Sherlock’s ribs with his elbow. “That’s it on the short jokes, sir.” 

 

“Are you going to sleep, or are we snuggling?” Sherlock asked, suddenly. 

 

“Snuggling,” came the response from a sleepy Omega. 

 

_ Snuggling? I want to be fucking. I want to touch your body and watch it jump. I want to  _ Sherlock shifted his body away from John’s just the tiniest amount.  _ kiss your neck and hear you moan.  _

 

“John. I’m having inappropriate sexual thoughts of you.” Sherlock admitted, finally, trying to turn those thoughts off. 

 

“You should be. I’m a delicious snack. A tired, but delicious snack.” 

 

“Go to sleep, John.” Sherlock kissed John’s neck gently.

 

John wiggled back against Sherlock, and kissed the nearest fingers. Sherlock stayed in bed curled up and around his Omega for hours. He didn’t disappear into his mind palace, he just held the sleeping man in his arms. Somewhere in the middle of the night, John rolled away from Sherlock.

 

Sherlock carefully got out of bed and pulled on one of Greg’s old rock and roll shirts before he made his way to the living room. He switched on the nearest lamp, and snatched his phone up. He pulled up his text messages, and sent a message to Mycroft. 

 

_ Myc, can I call you? SH _

 

Less than one minute later, his cell phone was ringing. “Sherlock! Are you ok? I’ll come get you.”

 

Sherlock laughed, “Mycroft Holmes, I’m going to marry John Hamish Watson.” 

 

“Excuse me, brother mine?” Myc pinched his nose, and tried to focus on what Sherlock was telling him.

 

“I’m going to marry John Watson.”

 

“Did he ask you tonight?” 

 

_ Clenched teeth. Interesting _ .

 

“He doesn’t have to ask. I know I’m going to be his husband. I feel it in my stomach… Like you told me you did with Greg. Remember that night, Myc? I was just back from my first date with Victor, and you came into my bedroom. We talked about the date, then you told me- I remember-”

 

“’Lock. I don’t need a reminder-”

 

“Yes you do, because you hate my Omega, so you need to remember what it feels like. You told me that you sat at the table in the MI6 lunch room, drinking the worst tea you ever had, but you couldn’t taste it because Greg Lestrade was talking with you. He kept grinning and laughing. You told me it made your stomach jump every time he made eye contact with you.”

 

“Yes, ‘Lock, I remember.” 

 

“I never had that with Victor, but with John? I have it all the time. Tonight, I held him in my arms for hours and didn’t disappear to my mind palace… Not once.” Sherlock exhaled loudly. “So, please, brother mine, try to like John for me.”

 

Mycroft sighed, ruffled his short hair, and then asked, “When have I ever denied you something you wanted?”

 

“A dog when I was four. A rabbit when I was seven. A snake when I was ten.”

 

“Excluding pets, when have I denied you something you wanted?”

 

“Never.”

 

“So what makes you think I’ll start now?”

 

“Because, Mycroft, you’re a stubborn arse and think you know best in all situations. You don’t always know best. Sometimes I know better than you. What I know is John Hamish Watson is going to be my husband. I want my big brother in my life, so you’re going to stop being a prat, and get on board with my wants. Understood?” Sherlock commanded. 

 

“Sherlock Holmes, you can’t use your Alpha voice with me. I’m an Alpha too.” 

 

“Then assume I’m using my little brother wheedling voice.”  

 

“I will  _ try _ to get along with Dr. Watson.” 

 

“No. You  _ will _ get along with John because he’s going to be my husband. Tell me you understand?”

 

Mycroft sighed, then asked, “How flexible on this are you?” Sherlock snorted. “Then I will have to be my best self and find a way to get along with the good doctor.” 

 

“Yes you will, brother mine.” Mycroft sighed. “Your husband likes him.” 

 

“Greg’s a softy.”

 

“No, brother. He’s my best mate.”

 

“This phone call has been positively illuminating. Thank you for the call.” Mycroft said, politely. “’Lock, I love you, and I hope you realize that I’d do anything for you.”

 

“I love you too, Myc. Can’t wait to have dinner with you and Greg soon.”  Sherlock said, before he disconnected the telephone call. He placed his phone down, and switched off the lamp. He went back into his bedroom where his Omega was just starting to stir. Sherlock crawled back into bed with John, and pulled him close. 

 

“My ‘Lock.” John muttered sleepily.

 

Sherlock kissed John’s head, then whispered softly, “I’m back, my John.” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First kiss anyone?

Greg Holmes stared at his husband’s retreating back. “Oi. This is not over.”   
  
Mycroft stopped walking and turned around. “I have nothing else to say.”   
  
“Then you listen to me, Mycroft Holmes. You will be home for dinner at 16:30 even if I have to come to MI6 headquarters myself and drag you home.”    
  
Mycroft stared at his husband-  _ His brazen Omega _ \- “I-”   
  
“No. Tell me ‘yes, husband.’ Nothing else. If you fail to be here, you have no idea what hell awaits you. Tell me you understand, Alpha.”   
  
“I understand, Omega.”  Mycroft managed to say. “But you know, I’ve taken quite a bit of time off lately, what with the move-”   
  
“I don’t give two shits about all the time off you’ve been taking. I want you home by 16:30 and not a moment later.”   
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Mycroft said, shaking his head. “I have a very important meeting-”   
  
Greg pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Mycroft’s assistant. Once the call was answered, Greg smiled, “Athena, darling. Mycroft is not coming into work today. He is staying home with his lowly husband and having dinner with his brother’s boyfriend. If you could please reschedule all important meetings until next week….” 

 

Greg paused to listen. “Did you just say he doesn’t have any meetings?” Greg looked at Mycroft and shook his head. “Ta, Athena. He’ll be in on Monday.”  Greg disconnected the cell phone call, and tucked it away in his pocket.    
  
“Greg, I can explain.”   
  
“You lied to me, Mycroft Holmes. Do you want a chance to explain yourself, or shall I skip to the part where we fight?”   
  
“If we fight, will it get me out of meeting with Sherlock’s boyfriend?”   
  
“You know John.”  Greg sighed. “You know what? Shut up. You’re on kid duty, I’m going out.”   
  
“Where are you going?” Myc asked.   
  
“I will figure it out when I get there.”   
  
“Do you have to leave? I’m sorry I lied to you.”   
  
“Are you sorry you lied or sorry I caught you?”   
  
“That I lied, but I don’t want to hang out with John in a social setting.”   
  
“I don’t care  _ what  _ you want. Your little brother. Your favorite fucking person has fallen into this beautiful relationship and wants you to be apart of his life … Why are you fighting this so hard?”   
  
Mycroft glanced at his husband who was standing at the other end of the upstairs hallway. “I don’t want to lose my brother.”   
  
“What?” Greg asked, taking a step closer.   
  
“I feel like I’m going to lose my brother because of his new relationship. He’s not going to need me.”   
  
Greg sighed, and shook his head. “I would like to snuggle you and tell you it’s going to be ok, but I have to tell you, you are a god-damn fucking idiot. You and ‘Lock have been together for his entire life. Why would you lose him now?”    
  
“Because John is….” Mycroft swallowed hard before he spat out, “He’s perfect for ‘Lock! He’s clever, hard working, and wants my brother … He treats him so well! Did you know that he sent him books on bees and different honeys?”   
  
Greg squared his jaw, and stared at his husband. “You are such a fucking idiot. Go, tend to your daughters. You are not going into work for the rest of the week. You will be limited to a 5 minute phone call once a day and only allowed to check your e-mail twice a day until Monday.”   
  
“Ah, come on, Greg.”   
  
“No, Myc. I am serious. I need you at home for the next few days.” Greg sighed, then added, “I’m so fucking furious with you right now. I can’t tell if you’re lying, or telling the truth, but I feel like it’s somewhere in the middle.” 

 

Mycroft opened his mouth to argue, but Greg quelled his words with a look.

 

“What I think is real is that you’re scared to death about ‘Lock finding real happiness because of his past, and you feel responsible for his last failed relationship. That’s fucked up, because all you did was introduce the two lads. You didn’t know Victor was a psycho, but I digress. You’re acting like a petulant brat and being totally ridiculous. John Watson is a  _ good _ man and he will treat our brother appropriately. So today you will watch the children while I go to the gym, the store, and possibly ‘Lock’s place.”

 

“Do you hate me?” Mycroft asked, quietly. 

 

“No, I don’t hate you. I wish you could be the good man that I know you are all the time. I’m not happy with you currently, and I think that you need to be the man I married,  **not** who you think you should be way more often than you are.” 

 

“I’m trying-”

 

“I know you are, and I love you for trying, but you need to just  _ be _ better.”

 

“I love you too, Greg.” Mycroft said, just as one of the girls’ started wailing. Myc looked at his husband one more time before he disappeared down the hall. Greg shook his head at his retreating husband.

 

“You’re a right git, you are.”

 

“You still love me?” Myc asked, pausing in his stride.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mycroft Holmes. You know I do.”

 

“Enjoy your day, Mr. Holmes.”

  
  


Sleepily John fumbled with the coffee pot, trying to make himself a pot of coffee. He slammed his hand into the coffee pot as it did nothing. He checked the plug, it was inserted. He opened the filter basket, and pushed it back in place. He jiggled the glass pot on the burner, but nothing happened. In frustration, John leaned on the counter and stared at it. 

 

“Work you damn thing!” 

 

“Shouting abuse at it doesn’t make it work.” Sherlock said, coming up behind John. He stepped as close to John as he could, nuzzling his body again the blonde’s. John took a deep breath, and relaxed against his Alpha. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, and snaked a hand forward to press the start button.

 

“Bloody machine.”  

 

Sherlock pulled his boyfriend’s body back against his, entwining their fingers together. Even through the layers of clothing, John could feel Sherlock’s hard on pressing into him. John chewed his lip, fighting the urge to to groan. John wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss his boyfriend and reach down his pants.

 

Sherlock kissed John’s head, and pulled away, muttering, “I’m going for my shower, love.” 

 

“Just stay and hold me.”

 

“I can’t have sex with you.” Sherlock said, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “I-”

 

“You’re turned on, and I understand that you’re not ready, but please just hold me.”

 

Sherlock kissed John’s ear, then whispered “I can’t, John… I’m not ready.”

 

“Right, I’m sorry, Sherlock. I’m-”

 

“Could you masturbate for me?” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear, tracing his nose along the outside of his boyfriend’s ear. “Please, John. Be my good boy, and touch yourself.” 

 

“Yeah.” John answered, shakily. “Yes, I can.” John said, holding up his left hand. “What did we say about this?”

 

“It means you’re mine.” Sherlock said, reaching out to hold John’s Soul Mark. He slipped his hand into the blonde’s, and pressed them together. John relished the feel of the scarred palm against his own. 

 

“Do Soul Marks have an expiration?” 

 

“No, my Omega, they don’t.”

 

“Do we have an expiration?” 

 

“No-”

 

“Remember that, my Alpha.” 

 

Sherlock gave John’s hand a squeeze, kissed the blonde’s neck, before he murmured, “Keep reminding me.”

 

John nodded, then cleared his throat. “I’m going to go touch myself.”

 

“Enjoy. I’ll be in the shower.” Sherlock kissed John’s neck one more time before he slipped off to the shower. 

 

John took a deep breath, pulling in the smell of tobacco, coffee, and woods into his lungs, before he hurried to the bedroom. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pulled his pjs off and left himself fall back on Sherlock’s side of the bed. A puff of sweat, woods, and coffee scent hit the Omega. 

 

_ Alpha! My Alpha! _  John thought as he ran his hands down his own body. He thought about the scars on Sherlock’s hands, and tried to feel them run over his body. He grunted as he reached down, and ran his fingertips over his reddened cockhead. Further down he reached to touch his balls, rolling them around in his fingers. He moaned softly.

 

“Louder!” he heard his Alpha declare. “You.” Sherlock placed a kiss between his nipples. “Are.” Another kiss, lower yet. “Mine.” A third kiss, at the beginning of John’s blonde happy trail. “My Omega.” Hot warm breathe against his leaking cockhead caused him to moan.

 

“That’s it, my John.” Sherlock murmured, before he wrapped his full lips around John’s cockhead. John wrapped his hand around his cock, and slowly stroked it. He could nearly feel the delicate, gentle licks from Sherlock’s tongue on the head.

 

John increased the speed of his left hand, as he clenched his right hand into the blankets. Tobacco and woods scent surrounded him, as he continued to stroke himself.  “S-s-s-so good.” he managed to moan, picking up the speed of his hand. “S-s-s-sherlock.” He gasped, as he imagined his boyfriend licking a stripe from the base of his cock to his cockhead. “I’m close.” He warned, trying not to shout it.

 

The bedroom door creaked when it was pushed open. John’s eyes flew open to see a doorfull of his very wet boyfriend wrapped in a robe. John’s eyes roved up, and caught his Alpha’s eyes. They were wide and lust blown. John licked his lips, and continued stroking himself. “Please, My… My A-aaaa-Alpha. Please. I. ” He started to whine, begging permission to come. 

 

“Come, my Omega,” Sherlock commanded, his chest heaving as he panted along with John. 

 

John held Sherlock’s eyes, as he let go. His cock bouncing as he shot ropes of come onto his thighs and chest. John panted through his orgasm, holding Sherlock’s eyes with his.  

 

Neither of them could say how, but the next thing either of them knew was Sherlock was seated on John’s abdomen, leaning over, and crowding into John’s space. 

 

“Is this ok?” John asked, nudging Sherlock’s nose with his. 

 

“Beyond ok,” Sherlock breathed, asking, “Is this ok?” Sherlock leaned forward and captured John’s lips with his own. 

 

Their lips met, and the moment stretched on for hours, days, weeks, months. The two men kissing each other as if they needed it to live. 

 

“Hey, John!” They both heard a shout from the living room. “Want to go to the gym?”

 

“In a moment!” Sherlock squeaked, panicking. 

 

“I’ll be right out, Greg,” John called, as he wiped his abdomen and cock off with Sherlock’s robe. With his free hand he pulled Sherlock’s face back to his and placed a chaste kiss on those lips. “Go to the bathroom. Get dressed. Focus on the buttons and your curls. I’ll see you in the living room in a few minutes.” 

 

“Yes, John,” Sherlock kissed him again, then added, “You’re a great kisser. Thank you.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” he said, before placing another kiss on the Alpha’s dazed smile. “Go, before your best friend comes in here to investigate why we’re so quiet.”

 

Sherlock nodded, and quietly shifted off his boyfriend’s abdomen. He glanced over the naked man, winked at him, then disappeared into the bathroom. 

 

John sighed happily, before he rubbed his face. He sat up and hurried to throw his PJs back on. He ducked into the bathroom and washed his hands. “Thank you, ‘Lock.” he said, with a glance towards the shower.

 

“Anytime, John.” Sherlock called back, with a smile.

 

John walked out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. “Hey Greg,” he grinned at his friend. “How goes it?”

 

“Ooof,” Greg smirked. “Did I walk in on something big?”

 

“Nope. Just greeting my boyfriend for the day,” John placed the towel down on the back of a chair to dry. “Coffee?”

 

Greg held up his mug as he slid into Sherlock’s black leather armchair. “I got mine. Yours is on your table.”

 

“Ta, mate.” 

 

John grabbed some biscuits from the cupboard, and sat down in his chair. He pulled his feet up and pulled a blanket over his lap. He pulled a few biscuits out and threw the box over to his friend. 

 

“Gym?”

 

“Do we have to? I’m a bit tired.”

 

Greg snorted, then stuffed a biscuit in his mouth in an attempt to cover it up. “We should go. I’ve lost my figure since giving birth.” 

 

“Fuck that. You’re happily married. You should be getting old and fat.”

 

“So are you,” Greg said, quickly. 

 

“I’m not married, old, or fat!” John protested, stuffing his last biscuit in his mouth.  “33 is still young.”

 

“Oh, poor John… you’re so old.” Greg rolled his eyes, and tossed the biscuit box back to John. 

 

“Dude, you’re 34.” 

 

“And you’re a cradle robber. Your boyfriend is 12.” 

 

“I’m 26 years old, Gregory. Maybe you wouldn’t have to go to the gym so much if you actually stopped eating my biscuits!” Sherlock said, coming into the room and snatching the box from John.

 

“Oi! You ate all of mine!”

 

“That’s because I was stressed about my chemistry test.”

 

“You’re going to school?” Greg asked, in surprise.

 

“Yes.” Sherlock nodded, walking into the kitchen to put his biscuits away. 

 

“Dinner tonight at Myc’s.” 

 

“Yes, John.” Sherlock walked over to his boyfriend, and helped him to his feet before he hugged him. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Be safe until you return to me. Bring milk home after school.” John whispered in his boyfriend’s ear as they hugged. “Can I kiss you ‘goodbye’?” 

 

“Yes, please.” Sherlock said, breathlessly. He placed his hand on John’s cheek, and closed his eyes before he leaned in. John smiled and met him halfway. 

 

As soon as their lips met, Greg wolf whistled, and shouted, “Get it, ‘Lock!”

 

“Oi!” John broke the kiss, with a shout. “Can’t I say a proper ‘goodbye’ to my boyfriend?”

 

“In this family? Absolutely not.” 

 

“Therapy before class, then I’m going to Myc’s. He asked me to help cook dinner.” Sherlock said to John, as the blonde man settled into his chair again. 

 

“See you tonight at 16:30.” John looked his boyfriend over before he left. 

 

“See you ‘Lock. No kiss for me? I’m hurt.” Greg laughed as Sherlock flipped him off before he shouldered his bag and left. 

 

“You’re an arse.” John laughed, before he picked up his coffee mug to sip. 

 

“Gym?”

 

“Oh hell no. First you get the cookies taken away from us, then you want to go to the gym?”

 

“Fuck yes. I told you already.”

 

“Nope. Not happening,” John said, firmly, pulling the blanket up to his neck. 

 

“You should want to go to the gym, since you and ‘Lock are fuckin-”

 

“Oi!”

 

“Too far?”

 

“No, but I don’t like you making assumptions about ‘Lock and I.”

 

“Are you fucking?”

 

“No. we’re not ready yet.” John sipped his coffee, then stared at Greg. “Aren’t you back to work yet? Your pups-” John emphasized the p’s “Are a grand total of 4 months old.”

 

“Piss off.” Greg dismissed John with a Holmesian wave of his hand. 

 

“Not so much fun when you’re on the other side of it, huh?”

  
  


Sherlock ran up the steps at his brother’s new London townhouse. He knocked on the door, and made faces at the camera. “Hurry up, Myc!” The door unlocked electronically, and Sherlock pushed it open. “Hey, nieces mine!” He bounded into the kitchen where he heard the crying coming from. Myc was standing at the kitchen counter, with each girl in her car seat, looking beyond frazzled. 

 

“Brother mine, don’t just stand there! Help me!” Myc snapped, gesturing to the bottles on the counter and the wailing girls.

 

“You’re such a bad dad,”  Sherlock teased as he picked up Beth and held her close. He rubbed her back in a circular motion, making soothing noises. “That’s my girl. It’s ok. Uncle ‘Lockie is here. You hungry?” 

 

Sherlock grabbed the two bottles on the counter and popped them into the microwave. “You and Sissy are so hungry huh? Daddy Myc just needs some help. He’s not as good at this as Daddy Greg.” He grabbed the first bottle out before testing it on his wrist. He grabbed the other one and did the same thing. He licked it up, and brought the bottles over to Jo. He pulled a chair out and plopped himself down popping a bottle in Jo’s mouth and placing Beth back into her seat before feeding her. 

 

“‘Lock. You’re really good at this,” Mycroft admitted, as he fumbled with Amy’s bottle. 

 

“Pop that into the microwave, Myc… It needs to be warm or it’s hard for them to drink.”

 

“How long?” Myc asked, a bit embarrassed, shoving the bottle into the microwave. 

 

“About ten seconds.” 

 

“Thanks, brother mine,” Myc sighed, then glanced at his brother. “You’re happy.”

 

“I-”  Sherlock glanced up, noticing that Myc was studying him. “My therapist is amazing. I aced my midterm...  I ran into a professor on my way here, but I want to tell John about it first.”

 

“How are things going with your...” Mycroft struggled to find a word that was as disdainful as  _ American _ but couldn’t think of anything, so he settled on “Beloved?”

 

“John’s great!” Sherlock grinned, laser focused on the babies. “We kissed for the first time today, brother mine. It’s amazing how good a simple kiss can feel.”

 

“You men have been together since the babies have been born. What’s wrong with you!?”

 

Sherlock looked up at Myc, and stared hard at him. “You hate him.”

 

“I,” Myc smoothed out his dress shirt. “Think that he’s too good for you, and I think he’ll realize it sooner rather than later. What happens then? Just another ‘Lock mess to clean up.”

 

Sherlock placed the bottles down, and determinedly stared at Myc. “I am not a problem you need to solve or fix. I may be your younger brother, but I can handle myself. Did you know that John and I started taking boxing lessons?”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

“Did you know that I haven’t missed a single class this semester?” Sherlock stood up, and picked up Beth who started fussing. He placed her on his shoulder and started patting her back gently. His eyes never left Myc’s. “Do you know that John sits with me every night and helps me go through my notes to fix what I missed?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you know how happy John makes me?”

 

Myc shook his head to indicate a negative response.

 

“Maybe, just maybe, Mycroft Holmes, I do know more than you do about a few things.”

 

Myc nodded his head affirmative, then turned his face back to Amy. “It was awful rotten of me to state that you’re just a mess for me to clean up.”

 

“It was. I’m tempted to throw a Sherlockian fit about it.” Sherlock’s text alert went off. He glanced at Beth before he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. 

 

_ Hey gorgeous lad, I got a phone call about a job interview. Greg’s on his way to his home. Hope you’re having a fantastic day. Xoxo your John _

 

_ Good luck, my favorite Doctor. Kick all the ass. Xoxo your ‘Lock _

 

“Greg’s on his way home! He can help us cook. What are we cooking?”

 

“Roast turkey, filling, mashed potatoes, and bread, just like Avia taught us.”

 

Sherlock smiled at his big brother, then heard the sound of retching coming from his shoulder. Sherlock snagged a towel from the kitchen, and flipped it over his other shoulder before he switched his niece there. “Just a little yucky, huh? Did I over-feed you?”

 

“‘Lock! Gross it’s all over your back.”

 

“Yes, Myc. that’s what happens when someone’s a little piggy and our Ms. Beth is a giant pig. She loves to guzzle it down.” 

 

“How do you know my daughters so well?”

 

Sherlock glanced him, and laughed. “Amy’s done eating. You need to burp her quickly because she gets sleepy.” Myc nodded, then picked her up to burp. “I know these girls so well because I spend a lot of time here with Greg.”

 

“In my stead.”

 

“At this age, one brother is as good as another.” Sherlock admitted, kindly.

 

“Why are you so nice to me? I’m a bad person.”

 

“Yeah, well. This is how you’ve been my whole life.” Sherlock shrugged, then switched Beth out for Jo. Quickly Sherlock burped her, then glanced at his brother. “Don’t get stuck on it. We all know you’re an asshole and still love you. Well, Greg and I love you. John doesn’t like you so much…. Which,  _ you  _ need to fix.”

 

“Me?”

 

“I’m going to marry John and he will be a Holmes too. Would you invite discord into our little family?”

 

“No, brother mine.”

 

“I was serious when I said I will marry him. You-”

 

“Spare me the lecture. Greg’s already given it to me.”

 

“Well, Greg isn’t me.” Sherlock said, placing his niece back in her car seat. “Remember when we were little, and I used to beg you to read to me at bedtime?”

 

“Of course I remember that.” Myc said, irritably. 

 

Sherlock took Meg off Myc, kissed her head, and placed her in her car seat. He picked up Jo and Beth and brought them into the living room. He placed them down on the floor where the coffee table should be. Myc placed Amy down too. Myc sat down on the couch with a sigh. Sherlock unbuttoned his shirt and took it into the laundry room. He returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea.

 

“Did you just brew that?”

 

“Yes. John’s been teaching me.”

 

“Well, ta, brother mine,” Myc said, taking a small sip of tea. “It’s amazing.”

 

“Why are you so shocked? It’s simple chemistry-”

 

“Yes, of course. How dare I assume otherwise?” Myc asked mockingly. 

 

Sherlock picked up his own cup, and took a delicate sip before he placed his cup down. “Did I ever tell you how safe I felt snuggled close to you when we were children? Like no matter what bad things happened, like Mum and Dad dying, I still had my Mycie.”

 

“Yes, I remember all of this.”  

 

“That’s how I feel with John,” Sherlock paused a moment as he collected his thoughts. He turned to his brother, and tucked his feet under his knees. “For example, the other day, I had a rough therapy session, but I got to come home to John who rubbed my back and fixed me tea. He holds my hand and listens to me moan. Not once has he tried to force himself on me. Not once-”

 

“I don’t want to hear this.”

 

“I want to say this. Please listen.”

 

Myc glanced up to Sherlock’s eyes, and saw the pleading there. Myc cleared his throat, then nodded.

 

“John and I have lived together for 4 months. Not once has he tried to kiss me. I always kiss his cheek, or his forehead, but never his lips.” Sherlock smiled.  “We talked about it. I’ve brought it up several times. I told him how much I want to kiss him, but I was scared to.” 

 

Myc placed his tea cup down, and met his brother’s eyes. “I’m sorry about Victor. You didn’t deserve it.”

 

“I agree with you about him, but John is kind, Myc. I have never been afraid to be alone with John.” Sherlock took a sip of tea. “I love him, and I know he loves me too.”

 

“You sound like an insipid teenager-”

 

“You’re an Alpha too. Doesn’t Greg feel like home?”

 

Myc’s throat went dry for the smallest of moments, then nodded. “Yes.”

 

“I’m choosing John, Myc. He makes me feel safe and when I kiss him-”

 

“You kissed him?”

 

Sherlock smiled, as he took a sip of his tea. “Today, for the first time. It was beautiful, Myc. It was spontaneous and sweet, but your stupid husband.”

 

“What did Greg do?” Myc asked, with a laugh. He glanced down at the girls, and grinned.  _ No wonder Greg likes having my brother here. He’s amazing. _

 

“We were kissing in bed-”

 

“Wait, you sleep with him, but just kissed him today?” 

 

Sherlock turned pink, but nodded. “A bit backwards, but the skin to skin with him feels amazing. He said he used to do it with James, and it was ‘quite nice’ but when he does it with me it feels like he’s ‘died and gone to heaven.’ Quite silly, but he’s a romantic.”

 

“You like it,” Myc deducted and spoke softly.

 

“Yes, I do.” Sherlock held his hand out to his brother, who stared at it stupidly. “Place your hand in mine, like we used to do when we were small boys.” 

 

Myc rolled his eyes, but placed his hand in Sherlock’s. “This is stupid.”

 

“There isn’t that nice?” Sherlock asked, giving Myc’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

 

“It’s something,” Myc grumbled, but didn’t remove his hand. 

 

“Please, like John for me?”

 

“I will try.” 

  
  


John checked his phone one last time before he slid it back into his pocket.  _ No new messages. _ He signed into the desk where they were calling applicants from. He submitted a cover letter, a resume, and copies of several recommendation letters. The beta dismissed John with a nod of her head. 

 

John settled into a seat, and squared his shoulders. Mentally he practiced his interview skills. 

 

_ Hi! Dr. John Watson. Fantastic to meet you! Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me. I appreciate it. Yes! I love bringing new life into this world. I can’t wait to join your company. _

 

“Watson.” The Beta behind the desk called. He nodded his head, and stood up. “This way please.” 

 

John followed her into and through an impressive library where there was a priest and a doctor sitting. John stepped up to the doctor, and held out his left hand to shake the other doctor’s hand. “Dr. John Watson, nice to meet you.” 

 

“A Soul Mark?” The priest asked as he stood, waiting his turn to shake John’s hand. The doctors shook hands, then John turned to the priest and nodded. “Are you married?”

 

“No, I’m not, but I am an  _ excellent _ doctor. I’ve delivered babies under perilous and normal situations.”

 

“Are you an Omega, Mr. Watson?” the other doctor asked. 

 

“I am a doctor first,” John responded, looking the other doctor in the eyes. 

 

“Your resume says you’re an Omega.”

 

“My resume also says that I graduated top of my class-”

 

“Unmarried Omegas are a big distraction at work,” The priest said, glancing at his partner. “Tell me, Mr. Watson-”

 

“It’s Dr. Watson. I worked for years for my degree-”

 

“That was really ambitious of you. Reaching outside your normal role in life. Tell me, are you happy?” The priest asked, sliding back into his own seat. 

 

“Not currently!” John snapped thinking  _ this isn’t going how I planned at all. _ “Your attitude is very backwards. I am a talented OB-GYN surgeon who ran his own field hospital. I not only lowered mother mortality rates, but also infant. I started several successful vaccination campaigns.”

 

“Ah, yes, I see your commanding officer was James Sholto. Were you sleeping with him too?” The doctor asked John. In turn, John flushed bright red, then curled his fingers into fists. 

 

“What I do in my personal time is no one’s business. If you care to call my actual C.O. you’ll learn that I worked 70 hour work weeks for years at a time. My superiors were beyond thrilled with the job-”

 

“Mr. Watson, this is my advice, and ultimately what God wants for you, find yourself a nice Alpha, have as many pups as your Alpha can produce, and put this silly urge of being a doctor away. I know that you worked diligently for years to obtain your little degree, however the longer you put off God’s plan for you the longer your sadness will last.”

 

“I am Doctor John Watson, formally Captain John Watson of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, 5th Regiment and also late of the Royal Army Medical Corps. My  _ status _ ,” he spat out angrily, “means nothing but how I reproduce. It does  _ not _ affect how I learn, work, or practice medicine.”  John stared at the two men who remained impassive. He opened his fists, then curled them up again. “However, I can see that I’m speaking to idiots, so I will show myself out.” 

  
  


John stopped outside Saint Bart’s, and glanced up at the building with hate. He shook his head, and pulled his phone out to text his boyfriend as he walked to the Holmes’ Estate.

 

_ Bad day. I’m on my way. I’ll be a bit early. Xoxo your John _

 

_ I can’t wait to see you! Xoxo your Sherlock _

 

Sherlock responded, then placed his phone to the side, before he went back to rocking Beth in his arms. “You’re such a sweet girl. My smart Beth,” Sherlock cooed to his niece. “That was a dirty trick you played, vomiting on my shirt. Although, it did gross your dad out, so points for style and execution.” 

 

Sherlock heard a knock on the door, and a flurry of footsteps rush up the steps.  “In here, John!” he called. 

 

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” John pointed out with a bit of a pant. 

 

“Correct.” Sherlock grinned, twisting his head to meet John’s eyes. 

 

“I’ve never seen you topless,” John exhaled, loudly. 

 

“Don’t stand in the doorway. Come talk to me.”  

 

John slowly made his way around to stand in front of Sherlock. He picked up the dozing infant, kissed her sweet head, then put her in the crib. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Sherlock, and took in the lines of his chest. Toned muscle hid under the tight fitting shirts he seemed to favor. Not just muscle, but scars. Little white circles dotting both shoulders and chest. Four large circles were mixed in. One on his neck, one on each arm, and one just above his heart.

 

“Sherlock,” John exhaled, his eyes drinking in Sherlock’s frame. “You’re gorgeous.” 

 

“Hush now!” Sherlock instructed, then stood up suddenly. “I was nervous about you seeing my scars.”

 

John glanced up to his boyfriend’s gray eyes, and back down to the marred chest. “May I touch you?” Sherlock nodded, unable to speak. Gently, John placed his left first finger on the largest most prominent scar on his boyfriend’s chest. 

 

“First night I told Victor ‘no sex tonight,’ he put his cigar out on me four times,” Sherlock whispered, as John fingered the four cigar marks. “Then he fucked me just for fun.”

 

John clenched his fists, then unfurled them before he grabbed Sherlock’s face and pulled him in for a savage kiss. “Raped,” John managed, finally pulling back from the kiss. “He raped you… I’m so deeply sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I apologize so deeply that your heart hurts because of him.” 

 

“Hush, John. It’s not your fault,” Sherlock said, pulling his blonde boyfriend as close as possible to his body. 

 

“You said ‘Victor Trevor is a bad man.’ I should have believed you.” John wrapped his arms around the brunet’s waist and relished the feeling of  _ his boyfriend _ in his arms. 

 

“That’s just the surface,” Sherlock nodded, placing a kiss on John’s head. “Tell me about your day?”

 

“Mostly good. Greg and I hung out at home, then went to the gym for a bit. As I was leaving the gym, I got a call from the unemployment office. There was a job interview this afternoon if I wanted to go. So I ran home and panicked as I dressed.”

 

“That doesn’t sound terrible. I like the thought of you at the gym … All sweaty.”

 

“Hush, ‘Lock,” John tinged pink. “So, at the interview I was not my best self. I basically tried my best to stay positive and focused on the work I’ve done, but I ended up calling everyone an idiot, then bailed.”    
  


Sherlock laughed, and ran his hands over John’s back. “You are perfect.” 

 

“Perfect? Yeah, all right, love.” 

 

“Who was interviewing you?”

 

“Two Alphas.”

 

“At Saint Bart’s?”

 

“Yeah.” John pressed his face into the hollow at the base of Sherlock’s neck. 

 

“They are oppressively good Catholic boys. My Avia always refused their donation requests. One year she wrote a letter stating that rats had more rights at that hospital than Betas.”

 

A light knock on the door frame had the pair jumping three meters apart. “Hi, boys,” Myc said, popping his head in. “May I speak to you both, then just John alone?”

 

John glanced up at Sherlock, who was studying Myc. The three men stared at each other for a few minutes. 

 

“Lock?” John prompted gently. Sherlock nodded his consent.

 

“I apologize ‘Lock,” Myc said, softly. “That I’ve been so harsh about your life partner. It has been brought to my attention that I’m acting-” 

 

Sherlock snorted, dismissively.

 

“I’ve been behaving like a hooligan. I’m sorry, Sherlock.” 

 

Sherlock grinned, then pulled his boyfriend into his arms again. The tall brunet cradled the shorter blonde for just a moment too long before he placed a kiss on the Omega’s head. Sherlock caught John’s eyes and gave a short nod as silent communication passed between the partners. Sherlock let go of his boyfriend joining Myc by his side. Sherlock was barely taller than the elder Holmes, and used that to his advantage by kissing him on his head before exiting the room.

 

John assumed a parade rest stance, but hardened his eyes as he looked at his boyfriend’s brother. Calmly and quietly, John cautioned, “May I remind you that your daughter is sleeping behind us and while I am a guest in your home, I am struggling with my emotions today so I make no promises on how I will react if you act inappropriately.” 

 

“Thank you for the warning. I owe you a huge apology. I’ve been terrible to you from the moment I met you. I’m afraid of losing my brother. Which is stupid because I almost lost him and had no idea. In fact, I encouraged his ex to marry him. That being said,  _ nothing _ I say or do can make up for my atrocious behavior. My dear Mum would murder me for my appalling lack of manners; let alone what Avia would do if she knew how I tormented her favorite grandson’s soul mate. I was a twat, and I own it. John, I apologize deeply and wholeheartedly.”

 

“Thank you, but I still don’t trust you.” John managed to get out after replaying the speech a few times. 

 

“That’s fair. I accept responsibility for that. Trying to pay you off was stupid-”

 

“It was beyond fucked up but also an insult to ‘Lock. Which is what upsets me the most. What kind of man do you think he is that he would choose someone who values money over happiness?”

 

Myc nodded. “I’m sorry, John. You are an excellent mate for my brother and if you wanted to marry him, I would not object.”

 

“Your blessing means the world to me,” John replied sarcastically. “Is that all you have to say?” John inquired in a polite tone.

 

“No,” Myc cleared his throat, then added a bit hesitant “I’m also sorry that I called you an ‘American’ There is nothing wrong with Americans-”

 

“Yes there bloody well is!” John cut in. Myc was surprised, but laughed.

 

“It’s the tea thing, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes! I appreciate you apologizing and I would like to move on from this, but I had a shitty day.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

John stared at Myc, trying to decide if it was a joke.  _ I guess he’s sincere and he did get the laws changed for Greg. _ “Just a job interview at St. Bart’s. It was more about my  _ status _ than my skills.”

 

Myc nodded his head, his brain already working on a solution. “Let me talk to a few of the gentleman at the Club. They’re on the board of several pro-Omega companies. If there’s a job good enough for ‘Lock’s mate, then they’ll know. 

 

“Thank you, Myc.” John teased, as he edged out of the room, “I’m going to find my ‘Lock.”

 

“Who?” Myc asked, with a grin. He was happy about his brother’s happiness, but still couldn’t resist teasing. 

 

“You heard me. My ‘Lock!” John replied with a bit of a smile, as he left the room. He went down two flights of stairs into the basement.

 

“John? Is that you?” 

 

“Nope it’s a homicidal maniac!” John called cheerfully before flopping down on the couch. 

 

“Come into the bedroom! We can snuggle.”

 

“Ugh. I wish you would have said something before I sat down.”

 

“I’m not wearing any trousers!”

 

John’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and quickly he hustled into the bedroom. “You were going to put a shirt on, what happened?”

 

“Greg directed me to the basement where some of my old clothes are in a drawer.  There’s also this sweet little apartment set up. I bet you Myc has it “just in case.” Meaning, he’s an arsehole and thinks we’ll break up.”

 

“No, this is pure Greg,” John pulled his shirt off, and then his shoes. He glanced up at Sherlock. “He has it so when Myc’s an arsehole, he can get a good night’s sleep without him.” 

 

“Come on, love, be naughty,” Sherlock practically purred so John stared defiantly at his boyfriend as he unbuckled his trousers and pushed them down his thighs. “That’s what I like to see. Come here, you.” 

 

“No sex, ‘Lock,” John said, sternly, all traces of teasing gone. 

 

“You had a bad day, you said. I’m just trying to cheer my sweetheart up.” Sherlock tried to play innocent, because internally he thinking about his boyfriend’s cock. “I didn’t say anything about sex, but you did. Very telling, Dr. Watson.”

 

“You have ‘fuck me’ eyes,” John accused as he climbed into bed. Sherlock pulled him close, and tucked his nose behind John’s ear but John wiggled free of his boyfriend’s arms, to roll over to look him in the eyes. “Well, hello handsome.” 

 

“You’re too far away,” Sherlock whined.

 

“I needed to see your face. I missed you today. Those Alphas were terribly biased Alphas, and I knew if my Alpha had been there, it would have gone differently.”

 

“As much as I want to say yes, I don’t think it would have. They don’t care about an outsider Alpha has to say…. Especially a scientist.” 

 

“I care what you have to say.” John leaned in close to Sherlock, who got the hint and brought his face closer resting his forehead against the blonde’s. 

 

“Oh? Do you?” ‘Lock said, as if the thought just occurred to him. His left hand snuck up to grasp John by the neck, and pull his lips closer. “May I kiss you?”

 

“Yes,” John whispered huskily, as he allowed himself to be pulled forward. Their lips met, slotting together as if they’d been kissing their whole lives. John buried his fingers into his boyfriend’s hair and ran his fingers through it, moaning around the kiss. 

 

John broke the kiss first, tilting his head back, and pulling Sherlock’s lips to his neck. “God, your mouth is amazing,” he panted, struggling to keep his voice down as Sherlock nipped and kissed John’s exposed throat. 

 

“Please, stick your hand down my pants.” John begged with a pant.  Sherlock didn’t respond, letting the sentence hang in the air. “Oh, my god, I’m sorry, Sherlock. I’m. An idiot. I apologize. Jesus, ‘Lock.” 

 

Sherlock reached down, and stroked John’s erection through his pants. “Not just yet,” he finally managed to say. 

 

“Please,” John managed to pant out. “Don’t touch me if this is something you don’t want.”

 

Sherlock pulled his face away from John’s neck and gave him a serious look. “I want to touch you. I have for months. I just didn’t know how to approach the subject.”

 

John blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing loudly. “Are you serious? I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you and I didn’t know how to say it either.”

 

“John, may I stroke your penis until you come?” 

 

“Yes,” John panted, then asked, “Please, may I touch your cock?” John quickly licked his hand. 

 

“Yes!” Sherlock whispered enthusiastically. “No one’s ever asked me before, they just- ooooh, John!” he moaned, quietly as he felt John’s hand slip into his pants. Hastily he pushed John’s pants down and pulled the hardened cock out. Sherlock ran his thumb over the leaking head, experimentally stroking. 

 

John eagerly stroked, then used his free hand and pulled Sherlock’s ear to his mouth. “You’re so fucking handsome when you touch me. God, ‘Lock, this is better than anything I’ve imagined. Jesus, just like that.”

 

Sherlock’s hand had sped up a bit, trying to keep time with John’s movements. “I-I won’t last.” 

 

“Do what feels right.” John nipped at Sherlock’s neck just below the earlobe, causing a moan to escape. “Shhh, quietly, love. We can’t have interruptions!”

 

Sherlock sped up his movements, and whispered, “Come with me.”  Sherlock struggled with himself to keep from coming.

 

“A little faster, please,” John moaned into Sherlock’s ear, “So close. ‘Lock, my love, my Alpha.” 

 

“My Omega,” Sherlock panted, clutching John’s arm with his free hand. John’s hand snaked up to Sherlock’s curls, and he buried his hand in them. 

 

“I’m so close, ‘Lock.” John whined, stroking Sherlock frantically. Sherlock’s entire body was shaking with effort. 

 

“Come for me… please?” Sherlock begged, in a low voice. 

 

John exhaled loudly in Sherlock’s ear, and let go. His orgasm making his cock and his thighs twitch in pleasure. Sherlock was right there, just a step behind him, clutching his boyfriend’s arm as he came all over thighs and abdomens. 

 

“You’re so handsome, my Alpha. Falling to pieces for me,” John whispered, as he came down from his own high, releasing Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock groaned, and rolled onto his own pillow. “Thank you so much.”

 

Both men laid there panting John was struggling to catch his breath and Sherlock was trying to reign in his emotions. 

 

“Why are you thanking me?” Sherlock finally managed, pulling his Omega into his arms. John snuggled in tightly, wrapping his arms around his Alpha. 

 

“Because that experience was beautiful …  _ You _ were beautiful. Something I’ll never forget as long as I live.” John felt for skin with his lips, and starting placing kisses scattered across Sherlock’s upper chest. 

 

“Stop, John. You’re being excessive!” Sherlock laughed, adjusting his arms around John. Delicately his fingers brushed against the large starburst scar on John’s left shoulder. “What’s that?”

 

“Mmm?” John asked, knowing full-well what Sherlock was feeling.

 

“This,” Sherlock said, as he ran his fingers over the scar. It felt puckered under his fingers. 

 

“That is a scar,” John said, carefully. Gently he unwrapped himself from Sherlock, and rolled onto his back. He picked up Sherlock’s hand and placed it along a thick pink scar that ran from hip to hip. “It goes with this one.” 

 

“How is that possible?” Sherlock asked, glancing at John’s left chest. “It wasn’t from a knife. There’s no exit wound.”

 

“Gunshot wound.” 

 

“Hm,” Sherlock nodded, then gently pushed John up to look at his shoulder scar. “It’s about 20 years old, isn’t?”

 

“Amazing!” John grinned at him over his shoulder, before rolling onto his stomach. “19 years ago, I left work early, and got shot. I spent the next 6 months in and out of the hospital and physical therapy.”

 

“What about the scar on the abdomen?” 

 

John buried his face into the pillow, and whispered, “Kate.” 

 

“Your daughter,” Sherlock said, thickly, as he draped himself around John and pulled the blanket up. John turned his face into Sherlock’s neck. “I’m so sorry, my John.” 

 

John kissed Sherlock’s neck, “It’s better than you weren’t there. I was a miserable brat.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to go through all that pain on your own.”

 

“I survived it.” 

 

“Where was … her father?”

 

“Ah well, I was fourteen and he was nearly twenty. He knew what he was doing when he asked me out.” 

 

“Where was your mum in all this?”

 

“So, when I started my heats at ten, Mum took me out of school, and enrolled me in this small, private home school. It worked out really well for me for quite a few years. I was able to get through a lot more material than I would have in public school. In the beginning, I worked at home, and she would come spend a few hours with me a week. It was nice. Then Mum decided to try this new private school down the street. I was thirteen the year I started. A junior at that point because of where I had tested.”

 

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

 

“Honestly, ‘Lock, you’re the only person I want to tell,” John murmured, before starting again. “I met this boy who worked at the school. He- was beautiful and I was lonely. We started dating. He came to every one of my footie matches and my rugby games. My Mum liked him well enough.” 

 

Sherlock was listening intently, and fighting the urge to growl. “I don’t like him, at all.” 

 

“No, my love, I don’t suppose you do,” John grinned against Sherlock’s throat. Gently he kissed it, then continued. “Drew and I had sex once and only once three days after my fourteenth birthday. It was terrible, and I tried to break up with him … It didn’t stick. He refused to leave me alone…”

 

Sherlock actually growled, this time, and managed to get out, “You are my Omega,” then sighed before adding, “I’m sorry, John.” 

 

John snuggled as close as possible, tucking his knee between Sherlock’s. He placed a rather gentle kiss on Sherlock’s throat, before he asked, “Please tell me a baby ‘Lock story.”

 

Sherlock chuckled, a delightful sound that rumbled pleasantly throughout John’s chest. “When I was ten, I decided that I was going to run away to join Myc at Uni. So I packed my microscope and the Uni shirt he got me in my constellation backpack. I waited until Avia fell asleep, and snuck downstairs to go to the bus stop. Myc had taken me a few times, I knew how to get there. Grandfather was waiting for me-”

 

“And thus a life of crime was thwarted!” John giggled. 

 

“Ah well, this man was not meant for a life of piracy.”

 

“Tell me something else. Please, ‘Lock,” John murmured, placing kisses on Sherlock’s exposed throat.

 

“You are a kissy type of fellow.”

 

“Not my fault!” John argued. “Your throat is bare and so close to my mouth.”  John pulled the blanket up to his nose which he rubbed against Sherlock’s throat.

 

“When my Avia put me to bed that night my Mum and Dad died-we didn’t know they had died- she put me in my bedroom. Sometime in the middle of the night, she came to check on me and I wasn’t in my bed.”

 

“Oh, your poor Avia!” 

 

“She was worried, but knew better than to wake up Grandfather up so she went to Myc’s room. She pushed the door open silently, and went into his room. She very quietly snuck up on Myc. She loved to tell this part. Her eyes would get all scrunched up in laughter. She was the most gorgeous when she would tell me this bit, John. She said she saw this mussy redhead snuggled up to this wild, curly mop sucking his thumb.”

 

“You?” 

 

“Yes. I wanted my Mycie, because we shared a room at home so I went to find him.” 

 

“Jesus christ, you had to be the most adorable toddler. All wild haired. I bet your Avia couldn’t tame your curls.”

 

“Why do you think I keep them so short?”

 

“Idiot,” John muttered, sleepily. 

 

“Just go to sleep, love,” Sherlock managed to say, kissing John on top of his head. Sherlock closed his eyes and listened to John’s breathing even out on top of his chest. Sherlock spent time composing thinking of the perfect violin arrangement to describe John; something light and cheery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys. Chapter 7 is at my beta (who's having computer issues) and I have most of nine done, but none of 8. Because my ADHD kicked in and now the BOYS MUST DO THIS OR I'M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO FOCUS ON ANYTHING ELSE..... 
> 
>  
> 
> So there it is.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something fabulous this way comes!

Sherlock Holmes must have drifted off at some point while he was cuddling his boyfriend because when his text tone went off, it woke him up. 

 

_ Would you and John like some tea? MH _

 

_ I’m just waking up, now. I’ll be up. SH _

 

Sherlock yawned, and stretched out. He kissed John gently, before he crawled out of the bed. He went to the bathroom, and took care of himself. He took extra care in combing his hair. 

 

Stealthily he made his way upstairs, and snuck into the kitchen. Sherlock saw his brother hunched over the turkey with odd creases on his pants. When he straightened up, he noticed the tiny smile that practically shouted he had been pleasing his husband recently. 

 

“Mycroft Holmes, you dirty, filthy, disgusting man-whore. In the kitchen where  _ my _ food is being prepared.”

 

“You are no better, Sherlock Holmes,” Myc smirked, closing the oven door. He turned off the whistling tea kettle before he brought it over to the table. Mycroft then grabbed teacups, spoons, and a sleeve of Ginger Snaps. Sherlock helped himself to a biscuit. Patiently he waited until Myc poured the tea before he pulled his cup over to him. 

 

“Have you gained weight?”

 

“No, but you have,” Myc said pointedly as he sat down himself.

 

“John makes me eat at least three meals a day. Sometimes I even have snacks.”

 

“No wonder your arse got huge.” 

 

“Keep your eyes on your husband’s arse,” Sherlock instructed, sounding a bit more like John than Myc would have liked. 

 

“Will you make the bread? It’s always so delicious when you do.”

 

“It’s too much work for you,” Sherlock teased, sipping tea. 

 

“You caught me,” Myc grinned, sipping his own tea. “So, what’s your good news?”

 

“I have yet to tell John.”  Sherlock sipped his tea, leaning back in his chair.

 

“Do,” Myc sighed, then tried again. “I offered to help John find some work. Is that acceptable to you?”

 

“Yeah, ‘course! He wants to work so badly, Myc. He loved his job.” 

 

“I don’t want to make this sound like I’m asking his  _ Alpha _ what’s ok for him, but I don’t know how it works in your relationship. I know- I remember Victor would-”

 

“He never would have let me…” Sherlock got lost in his thoughts, then said softly, “The way I love John is so different. I want to come home at the end of the day to him. I want to text him stupid heart emojis. I want to make him smile.”

 

“When I started dating Greg, I  _ wanted _ to ask how his day was… Get this bit, ‘Lock, I  _ cared _ about his response.”

 

“Myc, you’re an idiot. That’s how I felt about Avia and now, John.” 

 

“You always were Avia’s spoiled boy.” 

 

“Favorite, not spoiled.” 

 

“Can you put your tea away and start on the bread?”

 

“Can you eat my ass?” Sherlock asked, sipping his tea. The two brothers dissolved into giggles and got to work on the meal. 

 

A text tone went off waking John up from a dead sleep. He fumbled with his cell phone, and unlocked it with only one eye open. 

 

_ My John. I miss you <3<3<3 Your Sherlock _

 

_ Are you still asleep? Dull. Your ‘Lock _

 

John grinned, then texted a brief message back.

 

_ Not so dull when I’m dreaming of you. Your John. _ __   
  


_ Disgusting. Yours <3 _

 

John chuckled to himself, and rubbed his face. He adjusted his pants, and crawled out of bed. He stretched his body out, before he headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. He scrubbed off the dried come with a flannel. He used whatever product was in the cupboard and fixed his hair. Finally, he went back out to the little bedroom, and pulled his slightly rumpled clothes on. 

 

John tucked his phone into his pocket and made his way upstairs. The sight he saw as he entered the living room was his brilliant, typically well dressed boyfriend wearing a ripped up, grungy Clash t-shirt that was slightly too big for him tucked into his expensive trousers with his suit jacket over it. Sherlock heard John’s movement and glanced up. Subconsciously, he smoothed his jacket and t-shirt down, but he smiled when he caught John’s eyes.

 

“Hello, handsome,” Sherlock greeted him, before he turned back to setting the table. 

 

John came up behind Sherlock, and wrapped his arms around the brunet’s waist. Sherlock straightened up and leaned back against John. “Have a seat. Greg’s grabbing beer and then we’ll eat. Myc is cutting the turkey. I’m going to help him-” Sherlock cut himself off, when he felt John’s lips on his neck. John kissed around the collar, holding Sherlock tight. “You’re going to squeeze me to death.”

 

“I will not. I’m very snuggly.” 

 

“Sit!” Sherlock laughed, pulling a seat out for his boyfriend.

 

“Where are the girls?”

 

“Greg’s parents were nice enough to take them for the night. Please, sit. I want to talk to you about my good news.” John placed one more kiss on Sherlock’s neck, before he slid into the seat. Sherlock quickly pulled his own out, and sat down too. 

 

“So, today. My criminology professor asked me to stay after class. They had made the final choice for the new paid internship with New Scotland Yard in the crime lab. Guess who got it?”

 

“You?” John asked, hopefully. Sherlock nodded, with a grin. “Oh, my dear lad! That’s fantastic!” 

 

“I start in about two weeks. It’s overnights, but I don’t have any classes. So it’ll be an easy adjustment.” 

 

“So tonight, we’ll celebrate you.” 

 

Sherlock grinned, and stared at John’s face, “I am so excited. It’s going to be freaking-”

 

“You’re so handsome when you’re excited.”

 

“John, focus on my words.”  

 

The oven timer went off, and Sherlock hurried over to it to pull the bread out. Myc came rushing through to get to the kitchen, to fuss over something, while Greg slowly ambled in behind him, holding two beers. One was placed in front of John, and the other followed Greg to his seat across the table. 

 

“Hello, John. Your hair is a bit… Mussed,” Greg announced, with a smirk.

 

“That damn nap,” John grinned, sipping his beer. “What’s for tea?”

 

“Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing-”

 

“Sounds pretty American to me,” Greg accused as he drank his beer. Myc came into the room with the turkey and his baby brother. 

 

Sherlock glanced up at Greg, and wrinkled his eyebrows together. “Avia used to make it. She’s from-”

 

“‘Lock, Greg is insinuating that I picked an  _ American  _ meal to make fun of John. I did not.”

 

“Avia was born in Boston,” ‘Lock said. “She lived there until she was seven.”

 

“‘Lock, this is why you’re my favorite Holmes. Plus you’ve got those crazy curls.” Greg sipped his beer, with a chuckle. 

 

“The curls are great,” John agreed, with a wink at Sherlock, who blushed as he placed the rolls on the table. He slid in next to Greg, and smiled at John.

 

“Myc, what’s the wine tonight?”

 

Myc grinned, as he carried the bottle to the table and the turkey on a serving platter. He placed the tray of turkey down before he filled wine glasses. “You don’t really care what kind, just as long as it’s the good stuff.”

 

“Grandfather’s favorite, I presume.” ‘Lock reached for his wine glass, and smirked. 

 

“Just from his vineyards. His private stock is long gone… Mr. Trevor saw to that,” Mycroft made a sour face. 

 

“Yes, well-” Greg started to say, then laughed. “There’s beer, ‘Lock.”

 

Sherlock made a disgusted face, before he turned to the meal at hand. Silence fell as the four men ate, and drank. When they had their fill, they pushed empty plates away from themselves, and made their way into the living room. 

 

John waited until ‘Lock was sitting, and sat on his lap. “Ta!” John called as Greg handed him another beer then sat beside them. John drank quite a bit of it, wanting the buzz to aid in his good behavior. 

 

“What do you want to watch?” Myc asked, trying not to glare at Sherlock with a lapful of John. 

 

“This will never work, Myc. John and Greg like sports. You and John like musicals. I like science lectures, which no one else does.” Sherlock complained.

 

“Which musicals?” Greg inquired, with a smile.

 

“A lot of them, but Les Miz is my favorite.”

 

“Get out of here! It’s mine too.” John finished his beer, with a smile. 

 

Lock peered over John’s shoulder and glanced at his brother. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes were a bit hazy. He laughed, and kissed John’s neck. “You should sing, John. Greg!” ‘Lock said, conversationally, “Did you know John played Jean Val Jean in uni?”

 

“I did not know that, ‘Lock. Didn’t your brother play Javert?” 

 

“I did…” Myc turned towards his brother and husband. “I also majored in theatre. Double major of politics and theatre.”

 

“I just liked the stage.” John shrugged, glancing at his boyfriend. ‘Lock was sharing a smile with Greg. John noticed the shared look then went over to Myc. John stood up on his tiptoes and whispered, “I’ll sing if your brother plays the violin. We can do Master of the House. ”

 

“Excuse me, gents.” Myc excused himself, while John sat back down on his boyfriend’s lap.

 

“So, John, what was that about?” 

 

John’s cheek blushed red, before he blurted out, “I’m going to marry you, Sherlock.”

 

‘Lock broke out into the largest grin. “Of course you are, idiot.” 

 

Greg choked on his beer, and placed it down on the table. “Wow, John. I can’t believe you just threw that out there to distract us from your plotting with Myc.”

 

“What were you whispering to my brother, darling mine?” ‘Lock asked, burying his nose into the nape of John’s neck. He trailed his nose up John’s neck with a devilish smile. 

 

John fought a shiver, as he clutched tightly at ‘Lock’s arm.. “I need another beer!” he announced before he jumped up, with a wobble. ‘Lock grabbed his boyfriend’s hips and held him steady. 

 

“I’ll get you another one, John.” Greg laughed, heading out to the kitchen. Myc came into the living room, and handed ‘Lock the case in his hand.

 

“John,” ‘Lock said, letting John’s hips go, fondly letting his fingers roam over the case. “Why didn’t you just ask me to play for you?”

 

“You want Myc and I to get along, so we’re getting along.” John replied innocently, as he slowly lowered himself to his knees keeping eye contact with ‘Lock the whole time. “William Sherlock Scott, will you please play “Master of the House” for us?”

 

“Oh!!” Greg laughed, coming back into the room, carrying the two beers. “Damn, John!”

 

“John!” Myc exclaimed, with a surprised laugh.    
  


Sherlock giggled, then nodded his head. “Get up, John Hamish! Get up!” 

“Myc and I will sing if you play.” John said, as he very slowly stood up. John raked his eyes over Sherlock’s body as he stood with a lustful look. 

 

“I’ll play! Stop…” ‘Lock cleared his throat, “Thank you for standing up.” 

 

“We’ve won, Myc! You’re Thenardier!”  John announced, turning around. 

 

“No, John, I insist.” 

 

“Truly?” John asked, with a grin. Myc nodded, and John held up his beer. “Ta, mate.” 

 

While his brother and boyfriend were discussing who was taking lead, ‘Lock pulled his phone out, and googled the music for it. “It doesn’t seem too difficult, I should be able to handle it.”

 

“Oh, I have the violin music. Avia had a piano music book years and years ago. One day, when she realized I preferred violin, she and I wrote out the entire score.” 

 

“Jesus, that’s ambitious.” Greg grinned at his husband. “I do love your big brain, Myc.”

 

“It only took us about three months,” Myc admitted a bit distracted as he searched for the music. “It would have been less time, but ‘Lock and I got chicken pox and couldn’t be with Avia.” 

 

“I remember that,” ‘Lock glanced up distractedly. John was staring at his boyfriend adoringly. John couldn’t stop himself from rushing over, and placing a kiss on ‘Lock’s furrowed brow. 

 

“You’re so handsome, Sherlock Holmes.” 

 

“Why, Dr. John Watson!”  Myc said, with a smirk as he reappeared back in the room. “What are you doing?”

 

“Kissing my future husband because he’s is just so god damn handsome.” John called over his shoulder before he placed another kiss on ‘Lock’s forehead.

 

“You want to get married?” ‘Lock glanced up with a surprised look.  _ John wants me. He wants to marry me. My Omega wants me! _  ran across the genius’ mind, as he idly fiddled with the violin’s case. 

 

“Yeah, ‘course.”  John replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

 

_ This has to be a joke. _

 

“To me, I mean.” ‘Lock clarified, with a hesitant look. 

 

John grinned at his boyfriend, studying the handsome face in front of him. This man-  _ His Alpha- _ was an incredible man. He was smart, kind, caring, and so very special. So in the end, there was no choice to be made about what to do next, so before a doubt could form, John shifted down on one knee. “‘Lock, will you marry me?” 

 

_ Fuck. Did he- just. Marry him?  _ ‘Lock studied his boyfriend’s face for a trace of a joke. When he didn’t see one, he managed to say, “Yes, absolutely… Yes, John, of course.” 

 

“Holy shit!” Greg cried, in surprise. “Our brother is engaged!”

 

“Oh!” Mycroft said, before he ran upstairs. Sherlock followed him with his eyes, before he felt Greg and John hug him; the weight of both men pushing him back on the couch. 

 

Greg leaned away, and just beamed at his best friend and his boyfr-fiancee.  

 

“You really mean it John?” ‘Lock asked, with a grin. John shifted from hugging to sitting on his fiancee's lap, gently pushing the violin case behind them. 

 

“‘Course I do,” John smiled. “Don’t you?”

 

‘Lock nodded, and kissed John’s cheek. 

 

“Found them!” Myc called, rushing down the steps. He placed a box in Sherlock’s hand. “These were Uncle Mycroft’s rings. He left them to me years ago, but they are so small.” Myc glanced at Greg, then smiled. “They would never have fit us. So I think that maybe you and John should use them.”

 

‘Lock shook the box open, and studied the two rings in the box. His face lit up, as he glanced at John. “This one is yours.” He held up a slim black band out to John. John held his hand out to ‘Lock, and watched as he slipped it on the traditional finger. John’s hand trembled a bit, as he pulled it back to look at. He studied it as if his life depended on it. 

 

When John’s eyes finally met ‘Lock’s, he was crying silent tears. “Sherlock, this is perfect. Beautiful… I-” John tried, before he buried his face in his fiancee's shoulder. 

 

“Thank you, Myc! This is perfect. You’re the best brother.” The two rings were quite similar. They were both black with black scrolls overlaid colored background, one green, one blue. The scrolls on the rings were similar to the scrolls on John’s soul mark. 

 

John pulled back from Sherlock, and plucked up the other ring. He slid it on his fiancee’s hand before he placed a kiss on the upturned hand. John looked at the hand with a scrunched up face. He twisted the hand to look at it under the light better. “Odd. Your hand looks dirty.”

 

‘Lock glanced at it, but shrugged. “Look at these rings! They are gorgeous!” ‘Lock linked his hands with his fiancee’s, and grinned at the slight clink. 

 

John leaned his face against ‘Lock’s neck. He kissed it gently, and whispered, “Thanks for the great day, ‘Lock.”

 

“Even though you didn’t get the job?”

 

“Yes, even though, I didn’t get the job.”  

 

“You guys are so gross,” Greg grinned widely, then glanced to his husband. “This is so great. I’m so glad we could be here.”

 

“Better than your own engagement?” ‘Lock smirked, then glanced at his brother.

 

“Is that even a question, you daft idiot?” Myc laughed. 

 

“Lads, I would love to stay, but suddenly I’m yearning for my bed,” ‘Lock announced suddenly, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck. Myc’s jovial face turned to one of concern.  

 

“Are you sick, brother mine?” Myc asked, a bit anxiously. “When you were little, you’d always say to Avia, “bedtime, Avia?” when you were sick.” 

 

“I’m just really tired all of a sudden,” ‘Lock admitted. 

 

“John, please, watch him. He’s gettin-” 

 

Greg laughed, “Leave your brother alone,” before he pulled his husband into his lap and whispered something filthy that made the Alpha’s ears tinge red. 

 

“That is absolutely our cue to leave,” John said, standing up. He didn’t let Sherlock’s hand go as they walked through the living room. The men all hugged their goodbyes, with John and Myc only shaking hands. 

 

The ride back to Baker Street was a quiet affair, with John snuggled up in ‘Lock’s arms. When they arrived at the apartment, ‘Lock paid the cab driver before they disappeared upstairs. 

 

John paused outside the door for just a moment when, he heard Sherlock’s gentle voice in his ear, “We’ll surprise Hudders tomorrow.” ‘Lock opened the door, motioning John in before he followed. 

 

“What did you have in mind, love?”  John asked, with a smile.

 

“Can we make a nest and cuddle?” ‘Lock asked, with a rub of his eyes, almost yawning. 

 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?”  John asked, pulling the Alpha into his arms. John pressed himself close and held ‘Lock in his arms.

 

“Yes, a bit. It was a lovely evening. I just think that-”  ‘Lock yawned, then rested his head on John’s forehead.

 

“Yes, ok, let’s go before you collapse on me.”  John escorted him to the bedroom, with a silly grin on his face. John helped the taller man into bed and started to undress him. 

 

“You love having me in bed, John Watson.”  ‘Lock teased, shyly.

 

“I- I do.” John chuckled, then kissed his forehead. It felt a bit warm. John helped ‘Lock out of his suit jacket, and tossed it to the side before he pulled the t-shirt over the other man’s head. John pushed him back, then flopped his legs onto the bed. John climbed onto ‘Lock’s legs, and straddled them so he could pull the dress shoes off.

 

“John.” ‘Lock said, slurring a bit, reaching out to touch John’s back. 

 

“I’m right here, ‘Lock. I just got to take your shoes off.” John chewed his lip as he worked the knots out of the laces. He plucked the shoes off, and toss them aside. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, and pulled him back. “Oh, ‘Lock. for-”

 

A light snore reached John’s ear, and he laughed. John wriggled free of Sherlock’s grip and he set to work on the man’s trousers. He pulled the belt free, then opened the trousers. John shimmied them off the slim man’s hips and pulled them off completely. John scooped up the dirty clothes and shoes before he took them to the bathroom. Then he placed the shoes by the front door before he went back into the bedroom. He undressed himself quickly before he climbed into bed. 

 

John had barely settled himself in when he felt his sweetheart’s arms snake around him. John laughed to himself, then switched off the lamp beside the bed. 

 

“Good night, my fiancee.” 

  
  


The next morning the sun was almost midway through its journey when ‘Lock finally woke up. John had abandoned him a few hours previously. ‘Lock stretched out and took up the whole bed. 

 

“‘Lock?” 

 

‘Lock grinned, then pulled the blankets up to his nose. Muffled, he called back, “Bedroom, John.” 

 

“I know that! Come out here. Have tea. Mrs. Hudson’s on her way up.”

 

‘Lock sighed, then called back, “Shan’t.” 

 

“Fiancee, mine! Get your arse up, and get in here,” John called sternly. 

 

‘Lock smiled, then stretched his rather long body out before he pushed his blanket down. He stood up, and grabbed the blanket off the bed. He wrapped himself up in it like a burrito before he went out to the living room. ‘Lock threw himself down on the couch, before he reached for the waiting teacup. 

 

“You spoil me.”

 

“I don’t.” John smiled gently, bringing some jam covered toast into the room. John placed it down gently and snuggled in close to him. “Are you wearing pj pants?”

 

“No. I’m just going to go back to bed when Hudders leaves.”

 

“Why? Are you feeling ill?” John remembered Myc’s words from the night before. 

 

“A bit, but I just like being in bed when I feel lazy.”

 

“Is your homework done?” John asked, sipping his own tea. He swallowed it down feeling the warmth spread throughout his body. 

 

“No, absolutely not.” ‘Lock grinned. “Semester’s over.”

 

“Oh, yes, great.” 

 

“Wanna go on a trip?”

 

“What? Where?” John laughed, then set his tea cup down. “You must be sick if you’re suggesting a vacation.” 

 

“The beach.”

 

“Which one?” John inquired, politely. 

 

“Any of them, but America’s.” ‘Lock said, with a wave of his hand. 

 

“Yoo, hoo!” Mrs. Hudson called, poking her head in the room.  “How are my favorite boys?”

 

“We’re going to Australia!” ‘Lock announced with a grin, slopping tea down his blanket.

 

“Uh, ‘Lock, we’re not. You’re fevered.” John decided. “Right, back to bed with you.”

 

“Hudders!” ‘Lock’s face lit up with a grin. “John put-”

 

“To bed with you, young man.” She wagged her finger at him.

 

“Look!” ‘Lock struggled to show his ring finger. “John wants to marry me.” 

 

“I did ask, Mrs. H, but this boy needs to go to bed.”

 

“I don’t-” ‘Lock tried to argue, but yawned instead. 

 

“Mrs. H, sit down, and get comfortable. Help yourself to some tea, I’ll be out to talk to you.”  John led ‘Lock back to the bedroom, and tucked him into bed. John leaned over and kissed the warm forehead. “Sleep now love.”  

 

“Stay, please, John.” a strong hand grabbed his arm.

 

“Baby, please let me go. I want to tell Mrs. H what’s going on.” 

 

“Hudders will understand. Just join me in bed,” ‘Lock paused, then added pathetically. “Please, Omega.” 

 

“Mrs. H?” John called, then sighed. “I’m sorry dear. He-”

 

Mrs. Hudson appeared around the corner, then grinned, “Ok, boys, go back to bed. I’ll be up in an hour or two to check on you.” 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. H. Will you lock the door?”

 

“Oh, you darling boy. Of course I will. Just get into bed and take care of our ‘Lock. He’s- He needs you, John.” Mrs. Hudson managed in a motherly voice.

 

“Ta, Mrs. H.”  

 

John waited until she had walked out of the room and stripped quickly. He sat down, and leaned back against the headboard. ‘Lock immediately shifted his head to rest it on John’s abdomen. John reached down, and ran his fingers through ‘Lock’s wily curls. 

 

“You handsome man. What’s going on with you?”

 

‘Lock attempted to shrug his shoulders, then settled back into a puddle of ‘Lock.

 

John tsked, mildly before he cleared his throat. “I may be a bit rough… but…”  John preceded to sing “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles.

 

John finished his song with a bit of a warble. He had always imagined singing that song to Kate when she was growing up, but now singing it to ‘Lock as he slept was bittersweet. New memories for his favorite song; just something good to change the tone of the memory. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEE! AN ENGAGEMENT!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Chapter 7 is coming, I swear to you. It's at my Beta, but here's the thing... I just had this wild brain wave that I'm trying to ride a bit more. It's going to be a *huge* one. Please, please, please stick with me. It's coming. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this. 
> 
> Come join my crazy shennigans on discord. Everyone is welcome! Readers, writers, artistis. 
> 
> We've got all sorts of fandoms represented. Come play!
> 
> https://discord.gg/


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